What Goes Around
by Joon
Summary: Harry Dresden gets a second trip to Cardiff when a lingering ghost needs to be exorcised from Torchwood. Torchwood/Dresden Files TV Series Crossover
1. Chapter 1

It's not absolutely necessary that you read _A Ghost in the House _to read this story. But it would probably make the reading easier and make me look less bad as a writer since I'll be writing with the notion that the other story has been read.

* * *

Jack smelled the coffee before the mug entered into his line of vision. And by the aroma, it was the expensive, industrial-strength blend that required its preparer to carefully measure out different types of coffee grinds with chemistry-precision. While actual beakers were probably not necessary, eyeballing was unacceptable. In short, it was coffee-making of the most time consuming, irritating kind for the brewer.

And the fact that Ianto was now giving him a cup without the requisite begging, pleading and bribing from Jack put the Captain on bemused alert.

"This has to be bad," Jack said, not looking up from his paperwork. "Did you accidentally let Myfanwy escape?"

"No. Not as such."

There was a mild shade of anxiety in the archivist's tone and Jack looked up from his desk. Ianto was giving him a slightly worried frown, as if he was trying to puzzle out a mystery while simultaneously figuring out the best way to deliver less than good news to his immediate superior.

"How bad?" Jack asked, taking the coffee to prep himself. "You made your the World Is Ending coffee blend."

"Actually, I've labeled it the Humbling The Boss coffee blend, but yours works as well," Ianto replied.

Okay, so it couldn't really be all that terrible if Ianto was willing to make a slight jest about the coffee. But his tone was half-distracted, vague, which kept Jack at attention. When it came to the strict lines of the job, Ianto rarely got overwrought if errors occurred, but after the last few days so soon after his part in the Jonah Bevin case, his coping skills when it came to his never endingly oscillating relations with Jack were a little off.

He'd been angry with Ianto over the insubordinate behavior. He'd called it that, not a betrayal. But he'd also known that deep down, the archivist had been right to tell Gwen. And technically, right trumped The Way Jack Wanted Things. They hadn't really talked about it, but Jack figured the near bone-crushing embrace he'd subjected Ianto to for a good hour later that evening had made it more or less clear that he'd forgiven him. Really, if Jack thought about it, he knew that he could forgive Ianto just about anything. He gave a more encouraging smile as Ianto shoved his hands into his pockets with a thoughtful look.

"I don't suppose you've taken anything from the archives lately," Ianto asked. "Only, something's gone missing. And I've asked the others and no one's taken it out since I put it in the basement so it couldn't have gotten misplaced."

It could have been a folder. A piece of alien tech. Even a boot from 1876 spat out by the Rift. But Jack had a sinking feeling he knew what the missing item in question would be.

"What's missing?" Jack asked instead, taking a sip of the offered coffee.

Ianto noted his unanswered question, but left it alone for the moment. "You remember the odd looking skull that the Rift shot out a few months back? The one with the markings on it?" He watched Jack's expression go from neutral to unreadable and fought back an impulse to sigh. "Jack…"

"It's fine," replied the Captain, taking another gulp of the coffee to add nonchalance as well as buy some time. "Your archiving talents aren't slipping," he added with a grin.

"So you have it?"

Leaning back in his seat, Jack bit the bullet. "No, I returned it to its owner," he answered with equal tones of casual and dismissive.

At this stage in his career, dealing with the enigmatic side of his boss was more or less standard for Ianto. Not that it made it any less annoying. Especially considering it'd caused him to waste nearly an hour trying to hunt down the missing object "What do you mean you returned it to its owner? Who's the owner?"

Before Jack had a chance to answer or come up with something that could pass for one, the lights flickered and sputtered until half the room was in darkness. Even as it put Jack on worried alert, he felt a small bit of gratitude for great timing. Jumping up from his desk, he rushed out to the main area with Ianto at his heels.

"Toshiko?" he called down, his voice in stereo with Gwen's.

"Who's messing around with the bloody power?" Owen shouted from his autopsy area, sounding more irate than usual.

"On it," the tech answered, her fingers already flying over her station's keypad. "We've got a power drain," she stated. "Working at 72 percent. I'm trying to isolate the source of the drain now…Owen!"

"What?"

"The drain's being diverted to your station. What're you doing down there?" she demanded.

"Owen, you're not back on that site, are you? Not after last week," Gwen asked, leaning down over where Owen sat by his monitors in the autopsy bay. Behind her, Tosh's computer screen indicated the power diversion in a series of blinking green lights.

"Do we need to set parental controls on his console?" Jack inquired.

"For the last time I ended up there via a spam link!" Owen snapped. The doctor stood, pulling off his rubber gloves. "I'm running samples of the cell cultures from that Ventarian we got last week. Or I was. Machine's dead now. Don't know what you're seeing, Tosh, but I'm on emergency power."

"You should have over 20 percent of our internal power by you," Tosh insisted, staring at her screen. "It's…hang on..." she frowned at her monitor. "That's odd. It's now-"

Before she had a chance to finish, the lights abruptly came back on with a tonal whirl.

"Did you fix it?" Ianto asked Tosh.

"No. I didn't do anything. I was still scanning when they just came on."

"Run a full scan of the entire Hub for life signs," Jack ordered. "There should be only four here, not including Owen-"

"Thanks for that," Owen chimed in.

"If there's anyone else, I want to know where," Jack continued over the interruption.

"Are we under attack?" Gwen asked.

"Not taking any chances if we are," said Jack. "While Tosh is running the scan, the rest of you-"

The lights sputtered and powered down again. Jack swore under his breath while Owen made his feelings a lot more audible.

"We're down to 34 percent," Tosh announced from her area. There was a slight pause where even her typing ceased. "Jack," she finally called. "Take a look at this."

Gwen twisted around to look over at Tosh, but her view of the monitor was blocked by Jack as he crowded by the computer. But even in the darkened lighting, she could see the lines of tension in both his and Tosh's bodies.

"You sure that's right?" Jack asked Tosh, his expression grim as he stared at the blinking green light. The technician nodded. "But there's nothing there. It's been cleaned out and locked."

"I know," Tosh replied, keeping her voice low. "But that's where the power's going."

"Do we have a camera set up down there?"

"No, it didn't seem necessary. It could just be a power outage," Tosh tried a bit weakly. "If the cabling got loosened…" she trailed off as she realized what she was saying. Or rather repeating from all those months previous.

Glancing up to where Ianto still stood by Jack's office, Gwen exchanged puzzled glances as Jack and Tosh continued to murmur while huddled around the computer. Finally, the ex-policewoman moved closer to them. "Jack? What is it?"

Staring at the evidence on the screen, Jack ignored the question. Silently he considered the possibilities and only one seemed the most logical. Logical by their standards, at least. But he had to be sure.

"Okay, Tosh you're with me. We're going down to take a look," he said. "Gwen, open the armory and get ready just in case. Owen, we're going to stay in touch with you through the comms. If we're out of touch for any longer than ten minutes, engage a lockdown," Jack continued. "Ianto, go up to the Tourist office. Give UNIT a call and let them know the situation in case this does turn out to be something more than faulty wiring." He saw Ianto open his mouth and cut in before the Welshman could begin. "If we have to trigger a lockdown then I'm going to need someone outside who can undo it when the coast is clear and you've got all the codes."

"Why's UNIT got to be a part of this?" Owen asked to Jack's back as the Captain all but grabbed Toshiko to head down toward the basement.

"Building friendly relations, obviously," Jack replied. Owen couldn't tell if it was a joke or not.

* * *

Toshiko clutched onto her handheld as Jack dragged her down the stairs as quickly as possible. She let her boss manhandle her until they reached the bottom step when she finally shook him off. In the illumination of their torches, she saw Jack mouth a quick 'sorry' to her for the harsh grip and activate his comm. "Owen? Can you read us?"

"Yeah," Owen's voice tinned back. "Two dots, on screen. Your voice, in ear," he listed off. "Gwen's pulled enough stuff out for us to take over a small country. Ianto's talking to Martha."

"Good. Tosh and I will get back to you. But remember, ten minutes -"

"Yeah, lockdown. Got it," Owen interrupted. "Anyone else getting a sense of déjà vu?" he added to no one in particular. Jack silently ended the line.

"Do you really think we're under attack?" asked Tosh. She hadn't said, but she'd agreed with Owen's last comment. Jack started to shake his head before converting it into a nod halfway through. Tosh stared. "I have no idea how I'm supposed to read that gesture. Is that a yes or no?"

"Both."

"Very helpful."

"I have a guess," Jack tried to clarify. "But if we are under attack, it's not from any person or alien." Tosh had a justifiably puzzled look on her face. "We need to take a look at that storage room. Is the power still being drained there?"

Tosh checked her handheld. "Yes."

"Positive?"

Having remodeled their systems herself after the first time the Hub's power had been diverted all those months ago, Tosh staked her life on it.

"Okay, let's take a look."

The two moved swiftly toward the storage room that had once held someone that could have destroyed the world. And someone who had been dearly loved. The last time Jack had been there, the room had been the unfortunate resting place for a lost ghost. She'd finally be able to move on with some assistance, but then there had been the other one…

Keeping her eyes on the handheld as they moved forward, Tosh quietly broached the subject. "Last time this happened it was Ianto's -"

"It's not him this time," Jack cut in rapidly.

"I wasn't suggesting he was," Tosh snapped back. "And what would I think he'd be hiding this time? But whoever is doing this might know about it to duplicate what went on last time. In which case this is a much larger security issue."

Before Jack could reply, he heard the noise of someone…screaming. Only the sound seemed to be coming from much further away or heavily muffled. In front of them now, down the corridor was the storage room door. "Do you hear that?" he asked Tosh.

The technician frowned. "No." She stopped in her tracks to listen. "Nothing."

More out of habit and hope for a corporeal enemy, Jack unclipped his gun and moved to stand by the door. As he undid the padlocks, the sounds of metal scrapping and someone howling in agony grew louder. But there was only darkness when Jack glanced down toward the crack at the bottom of the doors.

"I don't hear anything," Tosh's voice said from behind him. Her softer voice barely filtered through the rising volume of screams. The faint smell of melting rubber and electronics hit Jack along with the nauseating odor of what he horrifically identified as burning flesh. He quickly motioned for Tosh to stay back as he shoved the door open.

The door slammed against the other side with a loud bang and abruptly, the noise and smells disappeared.

Keeping his gun trained in front of him, Jack quickly looked to his right and left. The room was empty save for some tarp piled on the floor and a few broken down tables. There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen and yet Jack's eyes darted quickly. The last time he'd been in this room, he'd seen him out of the corner of his eye…

"Jack?"

Much to Jack's self-embarrassment, he started a little when Owen's voice sounded off in his ear. The captain tapped his ear piece. "Owen?"

"Lights are back on," the doctor informed. "You and Tosh find the problem?"

Coming up from behind him, Tosh walked over to the main generator relay box of the room. The cover was still on and from the amount of dust covering it, it hadn't been tampered with in a long time. Still she crouched down to take a closer look, angling her handheld to take a reading.

"All energy levels are normal here," she said. "Relay box hasn't been touched, but let me open it up and take another look." She reached out a hand when a jolt went through her fingers as if she'd just brushed them against dry ice. Letting out a startled cry of pain, Tosh fell backwards, landing hard on the floor, cradling her arm to her chest. But holding her arm to herself only seemed to make things worse as the icy chill spread from her limb to her torso and envelope her.

She had a sudden memory of the time she'd fallen into the Bay during a Weevil chase. Of the way the water had closed over her and shocked her system so badly with the cold that she hadn't been able to swim for a good minute before adrenaline had finally kicked in. Now, fear suddenly clawed at her and she couldn't move again. The cold was seeping into her bones, numbing her. She couldn't breathe. She was going to freeze. She was going to drown. She was going to die…

"Tosh!"

A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders and the heat from them seared into her, melting the ice in a flash. She gasped as her nerve endings activated to the warmth, sending pinpricks through her body. Her eyes focused and she saw Jack's face looking at her with concern, his hands digging into her arms again, only this time she welcomed the dull pain that went along with them.

"Tosh? Tell me what's wrong," Jack ordered. The flat calmness of his voice broke through the last of panic that had settled so quickly into Tosh's mind.

"I'm fine," she said, weakly. "Now I am," she added off of the incredulous look on Jack's face. "I…I think the box shocked me." Even as she said the words they didn't sound right. She hadn't put her hand on the box yet before she'd been knocked backwards. And it hadn't been an electrical shock. It had felt like a blast of ice water being injected straight into veins tens times over.

"Can you get up?" Jack asked.

Holding onto his arm, Tosh rose to her feet. There was a lasting shiver still running through her body. "It's cold," she said, huddling into herself a little. Keeping her head ducked, she missed the look that raced across Jack's face.

"Let's go back up," said Jack after a moment's pause. Gently, he took her arm to guide her out of the room. Before closing the door he took a last glance over his shoulder.

There was nothing.

* * *

Back in the main Hub area, Jack ordered for Ianto to return downstairs after letting UNIT know it was a false alarm while Gwen and Owen busied themselves with returning the weapons to the armory. Sitting back at her computer, Tosh pulled her jacket on for warmth while running another diagnostic.

"So just faulty wiring then?" Gwen asked as she snapped the safety back on the weapons she'd taken out. Beside her, Owen pored over what she'd pulled.

"Jack seems to think so," Tosh answered with a frown. She looked up toward his office where she could see him at his desk, his back to them. "Bloody nuisance," she muttered, sourly.

Gwen looked at her, a little puzzled by the comment. Tosh was usually the last one to complain when they were standing knee deep in alien guts in the freezing cold.

"Why did you take this out?" asked Owen, breaking into her thoughts. He held up what looked like a super-sized Swiss army knife.

"Thought it might be useful," Gwen replied.

The doctor snorted. "Gwen, in a fight to the death, I'd prefer a weapon that works when me and the attacker are on the other sides of the room." Snapping the blade out he examined the gleaming metal.

The alarm above the cog door sounded as it peeled open for Ianto walk in.

"What'd you find, Tosh?" he asked.

"Nothing," the technician answered, flatly. Her eyes remained trained on her screen as the diagnostic continued to run. "Probably wiring or something."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" she snapped at Ianto, glaring over at him. "Are you questioning my competence now?"

Ianto blinked. "Uh, no. Of course not. Sorry," he said, uncomfortably.

Behind Tosh, Gwen and Owen traded glances. "Tosh, you okay?" Gwen ventured.

The soft inquiry seemed to shake something out of the technician as she turned to look at the other woman. "I'm fine," she answered, her shoulders sagging a little. "Just a little tired."

"Would you like a coffee?" Ianto asked. "You look a bit cold."

When Tosh turned to look back at him, her eyes seemed unfocused for a split second, as if she didn't quite see him. But then she gave him a small smile. "That'd be great. Thanks, Ianto."

* * *

Up inside his office, Jack idly flipped a small business card in his hand. The unpretentious, simple white piece of cardstock was already frayed and tattered at the corners, but the stark black writing on the front remained clear. Jack stared at the information, a frown settling on his face.

He wasn't crazy about the idea of bringing in an outsider by choice. The last time the owner of the business card had come, it had been of his own will and there had been extenuating circumstances.  
_  
A possible ghost in the Hub isn't an extenuating circumstance, then?_ The voice in Jack's head inquired.

Jack sighed. He knew he should have dealt with this a lot sooner. Probably from the moment he suspected anything he should have called the wizard right back to Cardiff to take a closer look. But there hadn't been any other event since that night. And Jack couldn't bring himself to be the one rehash the past again. So he'd waited and maybe hoped that it had just been his own imagination.

_Procrastination. Always comes back to bite you on the ass._

Jack wondered when his conscience started sounding a little like Owen.

He stared at the card in his hand again. If he did decide to call the wizard back to Cardiff, he would have to tread carefully. Ideally, he'd want him to come in and take care off the problem without the rest of the team knowing. It'd be a simple, quick exorcism. Jack had seen him do it the last time with Annie Braithwaite's ghost. This shouldn't be any different. But even so, it would be so much easier if they could somehow deal with it themselves. Like they had with Eugene Jones.

Tapping the card lightly on his desk, Jack opened a drawer to put the card back inside for now when there was a loud crash from below.

"Tosh! Whoa! Whoa!" he heard Owen's voice shout.

Jack raced outside to find Gwen and Owen grappling to keep a hold on a struggling Tosh who was screaming something nonsensical, her face twisted in rage. By their feet was a large knife, the blade stained with blood. The red liquid mixed with the coffee that had leaked all over the floor from the smashed cup. Several steps away, Ianto stood, his face pale and stunned.

He was clutching his left arm that Jack could see was bleeding from a large tear that cut through the wool of his suit and ran from his forearm down to his elbow.

"What the hell's going on?" Jack demanded, rushing over to him.

"She…she attacked him?" Owen said it like he couldn't quite figure out if he believed it himself, despite having witnessed it.

"He brought her a coffee and she took a stab at him," Gwen shouted above Tosh's cries. "She just lashed out."

Jack grabbed Ianto's elbow without thinking, eliciting a sharp hiss from the Welshman. Jack immediately let go. "You okay?" Jack asked, sharply.

Ianto nodded, still keeping stunned eyes on Tosh. Suddenly, the technician went quiet and slackened so much that Owen and Gwen went from restraining her to having to hold her up. For a minute, Gwen thought she'd passed out when Tosh shivered violently and looked over to where Jack and Ianto stood. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, god," she gasped, seeing the blood drip off Ianto's fingers.

"Tosh?" Owen called, unsure. He hesitatingly let go of her arm, but kept his hands on her shoulder just in case.

Tosh pressed her free hand to her mouth, her expression horrified. "Oh, god," she repeated. "Oh…I…Ianto…I didn't mean…" Fear flooded her dark eyes. "I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean…I'm sorry. Oh, god, Ianto I'm so sorry."

Whatever anger had disfigured her features just before she'd lunged at Ianto was completely gone. Tosh was herself again, only now in tears. Seeing her sobbing, Ianto took a step toward her before Jack put a hand on his uninjured arm to keep him from going any further. "It's okay, Tosh," the Welshman reassured, quietly. "It's fine. It's okay."

"I'm sorry," Tosh wept as Gwen moved from holding her back to just holding her. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. I don't know what's happening."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

If anything feels vague in this chapter, I did that on purpose. Honest.

* * *

Harry was depressed.

And in Bob's opinion, it was the worst kind of depression. It wasn't severe enough that the wizard would take to drinking alone in dark rooms or anything like that. It was the mild, obstinate kind of depression. Had Harry's emotional state been a little more severe, Bob would know what to do. He could coax his former student out of his black moods with equal helpings of sympathy and sarcasm until Harry would have little choice but to pull himself together. It was akin to combating a particularly nasty flu with strong medication. But a weak depression was all the more challenging and harder to extract.

And a week of it had left Harry devoid of any real energy, allowing his already shoddy housekeeping to double in neglect, judging by the unwashed dishes that were so many in number that they'd taken to spilling out of the sink. Bob eyed them with a small sigh. If this went on to next week, he was pretty sure some new life form would emerge from within the tower of plates.

The ghost wasn't alone in noticing Harry's dark mood. Murphy had attempted to throw a few cases in the wizard's direction to at least distract him from wallowing. Only it had become rather obvious to Harry, even in his state, that his services were not needed and more the point, they hadn't been approved by the police department. And as desperate as Harry might be for money, he drew the line at taking Murphy's when the policewoman had attempted to secretly pay him out of her own pocket.

Mooching a lunch or two from her was one thing. Taking a week's fee was something completely different.

Bob could understand the reasoning. He only wished that a genuine case would hurry up and land on Harry's doorstep. Even a client looking for Harry to find her lost cat would be appreciated. If anything, the ghost hoped for a milder case after the last one that had caused the wizard to sink into his current state to begin with.

A put off yowl broke Bob from his thoughts. He turned in time to see Mister pad into the kitchen. When the orange cat saw nothing new had been added to his food bowl, he gave the ghost an accusatory stare.

"Believe me, if it were up to me you'd be fed by now," Bob muttered, giving the cat an equally cold stare. The feline trotted over to him and sat by his feet, an expectant expression on the furry face. "There's not much I can do about it," he defended. "When he gets this way one can only wait it out."

Mister mewed, not breaking his gaze.

"Listen, it's not as if I haven't tried," Bob said, crossing his arms. "Don't look at me like that. When you can contribute a suitable suggestion, then you can-"

"Bob, what're you doing?"

The ghost looked up to see Harry standing by the entrance way to the kitchen with a puzzled look on his face.

"I was simply…talking to the cat," Bob finished, refusing to let his voice betray the fact that even he found his own behavior bizarre. Mister twisted around to stare over at Harry and Bob could swear the feline had a challenging look on his face, as if to dare Harry to make a comment about it.

_I've allied myself with a cat,_ Bob realized. These days were apparently darker than he'd originally thought.

He carefully watched Harry as the wizard wordlessly opened up his cabinets in search of a clean mug. Despite a week having gone by, Harry still moved with some stiffness when it came to his right shoulder.

"You're out of dishware," Bob stated, gesturing toward the tower of dishes. He had a momentary surge of hope when Harry actually went to the sink, but the wizard only extracted the nearest dirty mug and began to rinse it out. "It might have escaped your dulled senses," the ghost said, "But there are actually more than one unwashed cup in that sink."

"Bob, don't hassle me about it now. I'll get to it."

"And exactly what sort of time consuming activity is occupying you these days?" Bob inquired.

Harry shot him a look. "I'm busy wallowing," he deadpanned.

"Well, they say recognition of the problem is the first step," replied Bob.

"It's not a problem. I'm just feeling a little tired, that's it," Harry insisted, flicking the now fairly cleaned out mug to get rid of the excess water.

Bob pointed a pale finger at Mister. "I believe he feels differently."

As if on cue, the cat moved over to the wizard and began to not so much rub itself against his legs as aggressively push against them. Harry reached down to scratch the soft head. "No worries, Mister. I'm fine."

Bob rolled his eyes as Mister ducked away from Harry's hand. "He wants to be fed, Harry."

The wizard gave a chuckle as he insistently rubbed at the cat's head again. "That all I am to you, Mister? The human food dispenser? Come on, where's the love?" he asked the feline as Mister tried to shake off the hand.

"In the third cabinet, behind the empty cereal boxes," Bob supplied.

Harry sighed and straightened to get the food when the phone in the storefront rang. Bob silently prayed to no one in particular that it was a case, rather than a debt collector. The ghost silently followed Harry as the wizard left the unhappy Mister to answer the phone first.

Shifting through the piles of papers on his desk, Harry finally located the phone.

"Hello?"

"Harry Dresden." The speaker sounded pretty confident he'd reached the right number, which to Harry almost always meant it was a debt collector.

"Speaking," he said, warily. "Who's this?"

"Captain Jack Harkness."

Harry drew a blank. "Uh…okay." He stared at the miscellaneous papers on his desk as if they might help him in remembering the name.

"You helped me out with a ghost problem a few months back," the caller clarified.

"Uh huh…"

"In Cardiff?"

"Oh, right!" The memory of a tall, dark-haired man rose up in Harry's mind. "Yeah, sure."

"You didn't remember me?" The voice sounded too bemused to be insulted. "That's a first."

"Sorry, it's been kind of a…hectic week," Harry apologized and lied. "I suck with names."

"I take it this means you're a busy guy."

Harry randomly glanced at his last bank statement open on the desk, which was less of a statement and more of the bank mocking him in clear print. "What can I do for you?" Harry asked instead of answering. He noted from his watch that it was close to ten o'clock at night in Wales.

"I'm in need of your services again."

"Another ghost?" Harry asked.

"Seems like it," he said almost casually. "Are you free for a few days to come?"

Switching the phone handle to cradle against his good shoulder, Harry pushed a few papers off his desk and sat down. "Well, hang on. You might not even need me," he said. Now that he could remember Captain Harkness, he had a few more pieces fall into place such as what Harkness did for a living. "You sure it's not…aliens or whatever it is you specialize in?"

"It's not an alien," Harkness assured. "Look, if you're available, I can get a ticket for you out here as early as tomorrow. Take a look and if I'm right, it's a quick exorcism like last time. If I'm wrong, you get a nice holiday out of it."

"Exorcisms aren't really that simple," Harry said. He paused to reach for a pencil and something to write on, choosing in the end a torn envelope that had once held his electricity bill. "What's been happening?"

"We've been having power outages the last two days," said Harkness, his voice switching from friendly to what Harry could identify as official mode. He'd hung around Murphy long enough to know the tone. "I went to the basement level with another person to check it out and while I was down there, I could hear things that weren't there."

"What sort of things?"

"Screaming. Shouting."

"Okay, go on."

"Toshiko got some sort of shock when we were down there. She said it was like ice had gone inside of her. But she said it was gone by the time we got back upstairs. Only after that she attacked someone else on my team, like someone had possessed her to do it."

"Ghosts can't possess people," Harry interjected absently as he wrote his notes.

"What?"

"Ghosts can't possess people," the wizard repeated. "They can make people sense them and influence them that way. But they don't have the power to take over a live human. Let alone make them do something against their will."

"You sure?" Harry could practically hear the frown across the phone lines.

"Trust me, I live with the oldest ghost in existence. If he wanted to possess someone, he would have by now."

"Toshiko wouldn't attack anyone without cause," said Harkness. "Let alone a member of the team."

"Maybe she had cause?" Harry suggested.

"No, she didn't." The statement sounded confident and final.

"Okay," said Harry, moving away from that line of inquiry. "Is she still feeling homicidal?"

"No. If anything she's mortified over the entire thing."

"You could be looking at something other than a ghost," Harry mused. "Unless you have an idea of who it might be. Do you have a guess?"

There was a pause before Harkness' voice came back, now switched over to friendly mode again. "I think things would be easier if we could talk about this in person."

"Yeah, but you might not need me to actually come."

"I'm detecting some reluctance here."

Harry was very much aware that Bob was now standing silently, but very presently by his left, almost intimidating Harry to accept the case. The wizard knew he could use the job, but something about this felt…off. Plus his shoulder was starting to ache again. "I'm just talking in terms of practicality for you, Captain," Harry explained, ignoring Bob's stare.

"Jack."

"Jack," Harry amended. "If I do go, I'll need to bring some stuff with me that might be a little awkward with airport security."

"You talking about Bob?" asked Harkness.

Harry blinked. "Uh…yeah. I don't think customs would be all that casual about me bringing a human skull."

"That's not a problem," Harkness dismissed. "You accept and you'll be through security faster than the Pope. You can bring the skull as a carry on if you want. How soon can you get your affairs in order?"

"Um, hang on…" Harry suddenly felt like the conversation was getting away from him a little. "I haven't said yes, yet."

"First class ticket. Five star accommodation." Harry could hear the grin from the captain's voice. "I'll even pay you in pounds. With the exchange rate what it is, you'll make double your usual salary."

Harry remained silent, but looked up to see Bob giving him an anticipatory stare. Keeping his eyes on the necromancer, Harry finally replied into the phone, "I can be ready to go by tomorrow afternoon."

"Perfect. I'll send over your itinerary today."

"I don't have email," Harry began.

"I know. You'll get it by messenger."

Harry frowned. "You know I don't have email?"

"You said you and electronics don't mix the last time you were here," Harkness replied. "I took an educated guess. You'll have everything this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Now Harry made an educated guess. "You already booked me a flight and hotel, didn't you?" He sounded just on the other side of accusatory, but Harkness only laughed.

"Sharp. I like that."

"How did you-"

"As someone once told me, it never hurts to be prepared," Harkness cut in smoothly. "See you in Cardiff."

Before Harry had a chance to respond, Jack Harkness hung up.

* * *

As Jack replaced the phone back on the cradle, Ianto knocked on his open door.

"I'm off," said the Welshman, walking in. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Jack opened his mouth to ask Ianto to stay the night. It was late anyway and with Dresden now coming, it could be a few days before he had another chance. But he considered how small his bed downstairs was and the last thing Ianto needed was his injury to be aggravated.

"How's the arm?" Jack asked instead.

Owen had given Ianto ten stitches and wonderfully effective painkillers. And hidden underneath layers of wool and Ianto's barely noticeable stiffness, one wouldn't think his arm had been opened up just two days ago.

"It's fine," Ianto said, automatically, having answered the question already six times over during the course of the day from just about everyone. Ianto shifted a little under the inscrutable look Jack was giving him as the captain rose from his seat to lean against the front of his desk by where the archivist stood. He frowned when Jack lightly grasped his hand. Jack never held hands unless hand holding was a lead up to sex or having to run from imminent danger. But the gesture now wasn't a lead up to anything. Jack was just holding his hand. "What-"

"Everything's going to be okay," Jack said, suddenly.

Ianto gave a short laugh in efforts to dispel the strange tension that seemed to have come from nowhere. "I think Tosh could do with the assurance more than me. Owen's still hasn't found anything with the scans." Jack smiled a little at that, but his eyes remained troubled. "Jack? What's wrong? Other than the obvious?"

At that, Jack finally released his fingers and moved his hand to rest lightly on Ianto's uninjured shoulder before giving it a casual pat. "Nothing other than the obvious," he replied, now smiling his more usual smile. "Better get home," he advised. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

"Cardiff?" Murphy asked, incredulously. "Going international? Your business must be doing better than I thought," she said, amused.

"It's just one case," Harry informed over the phone. "But it might take a few days. Could you take Mister while I'm gone?"

Murphy wasn't a big cat person. But her daughter was and the fact that Harry was taking a job she took as a good sign for his mental state. "Yeah, fine," she agreed, putting in a slightly exasperated tone for good measure. "You better bring me back a nice souvenir."

"I'll bring you back the best thing Cardiff has to offer," Harry assured.

"I don't need my own Welsh baritone, Harry," Murphy replied. "Just something nicer than a tee shirt."

"Check," said Harry with a grin. "Thanks, Murph. I appreciate it."

"I'll swing by tomorrow morning."

Hanging up, the smile on Harry's face dropped off into a more contemplative frown.

"For a man about to travel first class, you look unusually morose," Bob commented, seeing the expression.

"There's something about this I don't like," Harry admitted. "It feels…too fast. With the tickets and everything." It had taken all of one hour before a messenger had knocked on Harry's door with a packet that contained Harry's entire itinerary.

"Are you certain you're not mistaking competence for fast?" inquired Bob. "I know you're a bit out of practice with being in demand."

"Funny," Harry said, his glare showing it was anything but.

"All humor aside, Harry, a case would be good for you," the ghost stated.

"You're just saying that because you finally get to leave Chicago."

"As pleasant as a change of scenery would be, I'm more interested in seeing you gainfully employed." Harry remained silent as Bob studied his former pupil. "Do you really have strong reservations about this case?"

"I get antsy around powerful people. You know that," said Harry.

"The captain seemed perfectly genial the last time we saw him."

"Yeah, he's all charm," Harry agreed with a suspicious tone.

"Well, I know you're a bit out of practice with charm."

"_Funny_, Bob," Harry repeated, irritated. "Doesn't change the fact we found a murdered girl in his basement."

"True," Bob relented. "But from what I observed during my unwanted stay last time-"

"I said I was sorry about that."

"I don't believe the captain to be of malicious intent," Bob continued over the interruption. "If anything this organization of his seems to operate with the good of the world in mind."

Harry mulled over the words, crossing his arms as he leaned against his desk in thought. "You know that saying about the road being paved with good intentions?" he finally asked.

"I prefer the more simpler saying of don't jump to conclusions," Bob replied, dryly.

"Since when did you become the open-minded one of this business?"

"Since I've begun to talk to cats," answered the ghost with some finality. "You best begin packing."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

After the stabbing incident, Tosh had accepted the suspension Jack had given her without much of a fight. Her only contact with the Hub remained Owen for the first day and a half. The doctor had run every scan on her in his arsenal and could only declare that there was nothing unusual to be found. Tosh had greeted the news with some despair. Despair she most likely would have wallowed in without the outlet of work had Jack not asked her to return to the Hub on the second day of her suspension, after hours.

The technician assumed Jack had asked her to come in at the late hour to avoid having to interact with anyone else on the team in case she had another episode. Owen's death ironically left him safe if Tosh took a knife to him. And seeing as how death refused to stick with Jack, he too was safe.

Using her key, she let herself into the locked entrance of the Tourist office and started a little when she saw Jack sitting behind the main desk normally occupied by Ianto.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

Tosh ducked her head a little at the kindness in her boss' tone. "Okay," she murmured. "Just…a bit out of sorts."

Jack gestured toward a chair he'd set up in front of the desk. "Take a seat."

"We're not going downstairs?" asked Tosh, hanging back a little. But then realization dawned on her. "No, right. I might…"

Jack frowned before getting her meaning. "No, that's not it." Rising from his seat, he moved toward her, sliding an arm across her thin shoulders in a comforting half-hug. "Have a seat. I just wanted to have a private chat with you."

Tosh let herself be ushered toward the chair. She twisted with the strap of her bag and looked up to where Jack was now half-sitting, leaning against the desk when the captain gently put a hand over her fidgeting ones. "Relax. I know you feel bad about what happened, but it wasn't your fault."

"Owen couldn't find anything wrong with me," Tosh blurted out. "He's run every scan and there isn't even a trace of anything that could explain why I acted like that."

Jack took a moment to study Tosh's hunched posture and knew he'd been right to call her in. Over the years at Torchwood, the talented technician has had her share of mishaps and lapses in judgment. But the stabbing had deeply shaken her. More so because at the moment, it defied any real explanation. And while he would have preferred to handle things without involving any member of his team, he couldn't let Tosh remain steeped in guilt for something that had been beyond her control.

"Tosh, it wasn't your fault," he repeated. "I know Owen hasn't found anything, but if I'm right about what happened down there, I doubt he ever will."

Tosh frowned. "I don't understand."

"Do you remember that skull that came through the Rift several months back?" Jack began, watching Tosh nod. "The owner of it came for it shortly after we got a hold of it. He's a wizard in Chicago." Tosh stared at him like she wasn't sure if he was making some bizarre joke to make her feel better. "I know it sounds nuts. But…well, it's true. I saw him do his magic. Just hear me out," he continued off of the look he was getting. "He was able to find a ghost in the basement. The girl from Jubilee Pizza. He helped her move on."

"A ghost?" Tosh asked, incredulously. "In the Hub?"

Jack nodded. "I saw her. She'd been down there ever since she'd died. And who knows how long she'd have been there if he hadn't come along."

"But then what…is there another one?"

Despite the situation, Jack bit back a small smile. Even in her state, Tosh caught on quick. "Dr. Tanizaki," he answered. "I'd seen him once before." A grim look settled on Jack's face as he stared at something past Tosh's shoulder. "I thought maybe I'd imagined it. Or I'd hoped. But after what happened, I can't ignore it."

"You think he…what?" said Tosh. "Possessed me when I was down there?"

"According to our ghost expert, apparently that doesn't happen," Jack replied. "But somehow he did something to you. I know it. There's no other explanation."

Tosh turned over the information in her mind. The rational part of her scoffed at the notion of ghosts and wizards. But that same logic reminded her of Eugene Jones and also pointed out to her that the greatest asset of any scientist was to keep an open mind. A very open mind.

"I've called him come back for another visit," Jack said. "He was able to exorcise Annie. I want him to do the same with Tanizaki."

"What did everyone else say?" Tosh inquired. Setting aside for the moment the bizarre notion of magic and wizards, it was unusual in general that Jack would hire someone from the outside.

"No one else knows, but you."

There was a beat where Tosh stared at him before narrowing her eyes a little. "You don't intend to tell them, do you?"

"If everything goes the way I hope, he'll be in and out of here without anyone else knowing."

_Secrets and more secrets_, Tosh sighed inwardly. "Why? If this ghost got to me then anyone else in the Hub could be in danger."

"The basement's been off limits since what happened. So far no one else has been affected. And the wizard's coming tomorrow," Jack informed, sounding more confident than Tosh felt like he had a right to be. "It'll be quick."

"But Jack…"

"Look." Uncrossing his arms, Jack leaned closer to her, his face set in a determined expression. "If I can get this taken care of without anyone else knowing, why shouldn't I? What good is going to come from this if everyone else gets involved?"

Mentally, Tosh replaced 'anyone else' and 'everyone' with 'Ianto.' Guessing her thoughts, Jack sighed. "Tosh, it took so long for him to move past all of this. What does it accomplish dragging it all up again?"

"You want me to keep this a secret?" she demanded. "Jack, I'm going to have a hard enough time as it is looking him in the face. He has a right to know."

"Why?" Jack challenged. "Practically, Tosh. Why does he need to know?"

The technician wanted to tell him it wasn't about practicality. It was about…she wasn't entirely sure. She only knew that if she was in Ianto's position, she'd want to know. But seeing the near pleading look in Jack's eyes that was asking for her secrecy rather than a real answer to the question, she felt herself reluctantly relenting. She hated herself a little for doing so, but…she owed Jack.

"So why're you telling me?" she said instead.

A small, grateful smile flickered across Jack's face. "One, I didn't want your guilt to eat away at you. You deserve to know that what happened wasn't you. You wouldn't hurt anyone, let alone someone on this team."

Tentatively, Tosh returned the smile. "Thank you."

"And two, I'm going to need your help before the wizard gets here."

"What kind of help?"

"A full background check," he said. "I've been able to get the basics, but I'll need a more detailed one and things like that are locked away in places only you can get to."

Tosh drew in an unhappy breath. This was getting sour by each passing minute. "If you're so suspicious of him, are you sure it's wise having him come here?" she inquired.

"He's already been here once," Jack replied. "And I just want to cover all my bases."

A few minutes of silence passed before Tosh nodded. It wasn't as if she had a real choice in the matter, but it was still nice to pretend. Even for a minute. "I'll need his name."

The smile Jack gave her was his usual, wide one. And depending on the situation, it either comforted Tosh or annoyed her. "Thanks, Tosh. It's Harry Dresden."

Despite herself, Tosh gave a short laugh. "A wizard named Harry?"

"You can save all the jokes for when he gets here. Can you get me everything by tomorrow afternoon?"

"Not a problem."

* * *

True to his word, Jack Harkness had rolled out everything for Harry. The wizard hadn't traveled much since returning to Chicago all those years back, but the ID Harkness had provided for him in his itinerary packet had allowed Harry to pass through security without so much as a twitter. And the fact that inside his carry on knapsack had been a decorated human skull that was saying something. On his first class flight, Harry had worked awkwardly through the customs forms, attempting to figure out if spider egg paste fell under the category of produce being brought in. But upon landing, not only had Harry's bag been the first out on the belt, but he'd been waved through customs without so much as a glance at his forms. But despite all the convenience, Harry felt his unease rise with each passing minute.

By the time he'd gotten himself checked into his assigned hotel, he was suspicious enough to do a search of his room.

"Very nice," Bob commented when the ghost finally had a chance to come out of his skull. He glanced around the accommodations, which weren't extravagantly spacious, but large enough and neatly decorated. Harry gave a noncommittal grunt as he pushed aside a chair by the window to draw a sigil on the carpet with a bit of chalk. Leaning over his shoulder, Bob watched his work. "As much as I applaud your newfound thoroughness, have you considered this maybe slightly paranoid?"

"Well, you know the saying," Harry replied, distractedly. "One man's paranoia is another man's practicality."

"There's no such saying."

"Well, there should be."

Finishing up, Harry got to his feet and pressed one end of his hockey stick to the drawn symbols. Muttering the appropriate words, he heard a soft clang as the chalk drawings flared up briefly and then vanished into the carpet. The wizard gave a self-satisfied nod. He'd have to repeat the procedure every 24 hours, but it gave the room protection from any spying and surveillance.

"I might be behind the times, Bob," said Harry. "But even I know that in this age, a man shouldn't be allowed through airport security and customs in under five minutes. Especially if said man is carrying a freaky skull as an accessory."

"Thank you," Bob added, dryly.

"You know what I mean," Harry waved off. "Whoever this Captain Harkness is. He's got some big connections."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Shrugging off the jacket he hadn't even bothered with before putting up his spell, Harry sat down on the bed. "Reminds me too much of my uncle," he muttered. Pushing himself back to stretch out over the covers, he regarded the necromancer.

"When you were there, what did the organization seem like to you?"

"There were five members, including the captain," Bob informed, peering out crack in the blinds. It was night time in Cardiff and the lights were twinkling across the waters of the Bay near the hotel. There was nothing in particular special about the view, but the ghost felt himself a little mesmerized by it.

"Bob."

Snapping back to attention, the necromancer looked back over at Harry. "I wasn't able to move around enough to get a full look at the area, but from the files I was able to read, they deal mainly in extraterrestrial matters. Though they did have that encounter with those goblin hybrids last year."

Harry nodded. He'd figured out as much in his conversation with Harkness during his last visit. He was still a little skeptical on the aliens thing, but as he was a practicing wizard, he was pretty open minded on a few things. "They seem trustworthy to you?"

"I didn't have much contact with the rest of them," Bob replied. "But in considering how that young lady died in their basement, I am slightly dubious of-"

The phone rang, cutting off the ghost's sentence. The sound was unusually shrill and Harry winced at the noise as he quickly picked it up.

"Hello?"

"How was your trip?" asked the now increasingly familiar voice.

"Good," Harry answered Harkness. "Easy."

There was a slight chuckle. "We aim to please. Up for stopping by?"

Harry glanced at the clock on his nightstand and saw it was close to 10pm, but held his mild surprise in check. "Yeah, I can get started whenever you're ready."

He got quick instructions to come to the same tourist office he'd gone through during his last visit. Only this time it would be minus the gun to his head. "Fifteen minutes," Harry said and hung up.

"Unusually late," Bob remarked as Harry gathered up a few things from his suitcase to throw in his knapsack.

"I think unusual is going to be theme of this case," said Harry, putting the aged skull in last.

The ghost gave him a wry grin. "You say that like it's unique."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Having spent several winters in Chicago, Harry had been under the impression that he was pretty used to frigid weather. But the wind that hit him as he walked along the pier mercilessly cut through Harry's body. His thick leather jacket, which had served him well enough in the past, now felt so flimsy against the weather that the wizard figured he might as well have been without it for all the good it did him.

As he approached the Plass, his eyes scanned over the other people who were out and about despite the time and temperature. Eventually, his gaze fell on the tall water tower he recalled having landed next to the last time he'd traveled to Cardiff via a transportation spell. Standing just at the foot of the tower was Jack Harkness. He was wearing a long coat that Harry vaguely recognized as something belonging to the World War II era. It made him look substantially larger than the wizard remembered him being.

Jack's eyes had locked onto Harry the minute the wizard had entered the Plass. The fact that the man was over six foot and currently carrying a hockey stick didn't exactly make him hard to miss. But Jack did feel a small spark of surprise when Harry had scanned the area and spotted him straight away, despite the fact that he was standing right over the lift. The perception filter didn't work on the wizard. It wasn't completely unheard of, but Jack noted it in his mind as he watched Harry approach him.

"Good to see you again," Jack greeted Harry with a wide smile.

"Same," Harry returned, shaking the offered hand.

"Thanks for agreeing to come in so late at night."

"Yeah, not a problem," Harry replied. "So…should we?" He gestured toward the tourist office and made to move forward when Jack caught his arm.

"Different way in this time," said the captain. When he flashed his smile again, Harry was reminded of toothpaste ads. "Tourist entrance."

"Tourist…?" The wizard barely had time to finish before he felt the ground beneath his feet lurch. They were going down into the ground. "The hell?" As his chest leveled to the cement he realized no one was staring at the fact that two grown men were sinking into the floor. "Uh…is this like an everyday occurrence here?" he asked.

Jack chuckled beside him.

* * *

Toshiko waited in the main area of the Hub as the lift descended. She took in the tall man standing next to Jack, clutching a battered hockey stick and felt her skepticism increase. He didn't exactly look like a wizard. But then again, it's not like she had something to compare him against.

"Harry Dresden," Jack introduced. "This is Toshiko Sato."

At the mention of her name, Tosh saw some recognition flicker through the wizard's dark eyes before he wrapped one large hand around hers. "Nice to meet you," he said, warmly. The smile he gave her was genuine and unexpectedly disarming. Seeing it, Tosh felt a spike of guilt at having uncovered his entire life behind his back.

"And since we're doing introductions," Jack added to Harry. Tosh stared uncomprehendingly as the wizard's eyes flickered toward her before he nodded. She watched and didn't comment when he slipped the knapsack off his shoulder and spoke into it as he reached inside.

"Bob, come out and meet the pretty lady."

There was a flash of light from within the dark green bag as sparks and smoke rose up from within it. Tosh involuntarily took a step back and then took two more when the smoke dissipated, leaving a man standing next to Harry in its wake. Her eyes wide, she stared at the new arrival. He looked like something out of a Dickens novel to Tosh and it was with some effort that she glanced away from the pale eyes to the object Harry now held in his hands.

"The skull!" she exclaimed, seeing the familiar bones.

"And this is the ghost that comes with it," Harry introduced, earning a look from Bob. "Bob, this is Ms. Sato."

"Toshiko," Tosh said, in slight awe. The Hub suddenly felt a little colder and she wrapped her arms around herself, fighting back an impulse not to continue backing away.

If the ghost noticed her discomfort, he didn't show it as he instead inclined his head toward her. "Pleasure, Ms. Sato," he said. He had a rich British accent that matched everything else about him. He wore a dark suit and ascot that contrasted sharply with the shock of white hair and pale complexion. And while he looked somehow more solid than Eugene Jones had been, there was a sensation that came off the figure that was all together more eerie and faintly disturbing.

"You're a ghost?" Tosh couldn't help but blurt out. Her own question sounded inane to her, but at the moment, she was too busy trying to wrap her mind around everything.

As if to prove her question, Bob extended his pale fingers and moved them through the skull in Harry's hands. They passed through with a soft sigh.

"Okay," Jack announced, loudly, breaking Tosh out of her stare. "Now that introductions are done. Let's get down to business." He spoke with a blasé air, as if ghosts and wizards moved through the Hub all the time and Tosh wanted to smack her boss as soon as laugh at his ability to make anything seem like it was no big deal.

"I have a few questions I'll need answered before we go downstairs," said Harry, roving his gaze to include Toshiko in his statement.

"Let's go to my office for that," Jack suggested, already guiding Harry to move in front of him. "Tosh, stick around and I'll call you when we're ready."

While Tosh obediently nodded, Harry frowned. "I have some questions to ask her too," he said. "It'd be easier if I could just do it all in one go."

"She's not going anywhere," assured Jack, gently but firmly pushing the wizard toward the direction of his office. "You'll get a chance."

Tosh watched the three men moved toward the metal stairs leading to the landing. The ghost named Bob seemed to move like any normal human, going up the stairs one step at a time, albeit gingerly and taking care to stay a little apart from Harry and Jack. She wasn't sure if the very human movements were comforting or even more disturbing.

* * *

"It would save some time if I could just interview you both at the same time," Harry insisted as he sat down in a chair opposite the desk in Jack's office. There were random objects scattered across the top of the desk along with neatly stacked piles of paper. Unlike Harry's desk, it looked like someone had, at least at some point, attempted to organize the mess. Bob stood silently next to Harry's seat, but bent slightly at the waist to get a better look at a small, coral object that stood next to the desk lamp.

Jack shrugged out of his greatcoat and hung it up before taking his seat. The lean face still had a friendly demeanor, but past experience had taught Harry to look beyond that. And beyond the friendliness, the wizard could see a steeliness that quietly demanded obedience.

"Like I said," Jack stated. "You'll get a chance to talk to her. But I want to go over a few things with you before then. Both of you," he added, glancing at Bob. Silently, Harry gave a curt nod. "From the last time you were here and from what Bob was able to see before you came to get him, I'm sure you've got at least a general picture of what Torchwood does and what it is."

"Kind of," Harry answered. He glanced up at Bob, who gave him an agreeing shrug.

Leaning forward, Jack folded his hands on the desk. "But what I want to clarify for you is that you're here to do a job for me, not Torchwood." He paused to watch Harry take in his words. "I'm your client."

"We were under the impression that the possible haunting was affecting your entire organization," Bob put in.

"That's beside the point," Jack dismissed, firmly. "I'm the one who's hired you. I'll be paying you. And you'll be working for me."

"And what does that mean exactly?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide his unease or suspicion.

"It means that you'll be able to conduct your investigation as you see fit," Jack replied. "But your contact with the rest of the team will be minimal. As in, Tosh will be the only other person."

Harry waited a beat, holding the unblinking gaze Jack was giving him. "And what if in the course of my investigation, I see fit to talk to the rest of your team?" he asked, slowly. If his question sounded vaguely threatening, he mentally patted himself on the back.

The look Jack gave him wasn't cold exactly. But it was no longer trying to be friendly either. "It won't come to that," he said. "Tosh was directly affected so you'll talk to her. But no one else has been so they're not part of the equation."

"I thought you said she took a stab at someone else on your team," Harry said.

"But he hasn't been in contact with the ghost himself," Jack answered, unwavering. The captain shifted in his seat. "Look, Harry," he said in a softer tone. "Whatever questions you might have about the ghost or how he ended up here, you only need to ask me. I want the problem dealt with quickly and that's more than enough incentive for me to answer you truthfully and in good detail."

The sudden switch in his demeanor gave the wizard mental whiplash and he was starting to suspect that the change of gears was tactical. Whatever small good feeling he had about taking on this case, decreased just that much more. But he was here and if there really was a ghost, trapped and unable to move forward like the other one, Harry couldn't just walk away from it. Not after what happened with Christine Graham.

"Okay," the wizard agreed, slowly. "You're my client."

Jack gave him a smile that Harry was rapidly beginning to find devious. "Good. So, what do you need from me?"

Harry bit back the first sarcastic answer that floated into his head and geared his mind to being professional. "You have an idea of who this ghost is?" he asked.

Jack nodded. "The woman you helped last time you were here. The one who killed her also killed another man." Opening a drawer, he pulled out a file and handed it over to Harry. "This is the information we have on him." Harry took the folder without opening it up.

"How did he die?"

For a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Jack's face before he gave an imperceptible sigh. "Do you know anything about an attack that happened in London about two years back?" he asked. Harry vaguely remembered something about a terrorist attack being reported on the news, but nothing beyond what was sadly becoming the norm these days in the world. When he told Jack as much, he got a smirk from the captain that didn't reach his eyes. "It was an alien attack," he said. "There's a race of beings called Cybermen. They're sentient cyborgs whose mission in life is to take over worlds by converting the inhabitants into their own kind. They invaded London through a branch of this organization." A shadow crossed the captain's eyes. "It was a massacre. Hundreds of people died with only a handful of survivors."

"How is it that the rest of the world didn't know?" Bob inquired.

"Torchwood's hand stretches a long way," Jack answered. The ghost couldn't tell if he sounded proud of that or not. "One of the survivors works for me now. And he ended up bringing one of the cyberman with him when he came."

"I thought you said they lived to kill and convert," Harry interrupted. "Why would he bring one here?"

"It was a mistake," Jack said, sharply before he gave a small sigh. "The cyberman…woman. Was his girlfriend. She'd been only halfway converted, which was enough. But he thought there was a chance he could save her." To his mild surprise, for the first time this evening, a look of something akin to sympathy graced the wizard's features.

Still standing next to him, Bob said quietly, "I assume he was unable to help her."

Jack shook his head. "No," he answered the ghost. "It was too late. And she nearly killed everyone." Turning his attention back to Harry, he indicated the folder sitting in the other man's lap. "Dr. Tanizaki was an expert in cybernetics. Ianto brought him here in hopes he'd be able to help. But he was killed when the cyberman grew too strong." Finally, Harry opened the file in his hands and began to leaf through the papers with the necromancer looking over his shoulder. "He's the ghost down there," Jack continued with certainty. "I saw him once before."

Harry paused in his perusal of the file when he came to a small black and white photo of the scientist. "When did his family collect his body?" he asked. "It says here he has a wife and a son back in Japan."

"They didn't collect the body," Jack answered. "Not his real one. We keep all victims of Torchwood here."

Harry looked up, sharply. "You're serious? You _keep_ the bodies?"

"It's protocol," replied Jack, coldly.

"So what did you tell his family?"

"They'd planned on cremating him to begin with," Jack informed. "They were given an urn with ashes. The car accident that took Dr. Tanizaki, unfortunately, left very little in the way of a presentable body as we told them." Harry stared at him, his dark eyes simmering with disbelief and undisguised disgust. "You think it'd be easier if they knew the truth?" Jack challenged.

The wizard opened his mouth to retort, but instead looked back down at the file. "Well, that's one possibility his spirit's still here," he said with forced civility.

"Annie Braithwaite's body is still here as well. And you were able to exorcise her," Jack pointed out.

"Every ghost's different," the wizard informed, darkly. "Like every person." He rifled through a few more papers. "This member of your team, Ianto," Harry recalled. "Is he the one who got attacked?" Jack gave a nod and watched as the other man's lips thinned in thought. "Okay," Harry said, closing the file with a snap. "I need to talk to Toshiko."

* * *

The general feel of the room was tense when Toshiko entered Jack's office. But despite that, Harry gave her a kind smile as he got up to offer her the chair he'd been sitting in. Tosh waved off the gallantry and instead grabbed a spare one from the corner. She pulled it toward Harry, but kept back as far as she felt was polite. Her earlier apprehension at being around the spirit from the skull hadn't lessened any and while his demeanor was nothing but cordial, she felt a near childish fear of him, as if at any moment he might be able to somehow attack her. Unconsciously, she shifted her seat a little closer to Jack's.

Sensing her increasing discomfort, Bob casually moved a little away from where Harry sat to give them greater space.

"I'd appreciate it if you could take me through what happened when you went downstairs to the basement," Harry began. "Take your time, there's no rush."

His gentle handling of her could have been a little condescending coming from the wrong person. But the wizard's tone was only respectful and Tosh found herself relaxing a little. Quickly, but carefully she took him through the events. His expression betrayed nothing when she talked about the cold shock she felt when she'd reached for the generator box. When she got to the part where she'd actually grabbed the knife, her voice faltered.

"Can you remember what you were thinking when you took the weapon?" Harry asked, taking the opportunity in the break in her narrative.

Hesitantly, Tosh shook her head. "I…I feel like I wasn't thinking anything. I was just so…angry," she remembered. "It felt like there was this volcano surging inside my chest. And all I wanted to do was just lash out."

"To Ianto in particular or just in general?" inquired Harry.

"I can't remember," Tosh confessed. The fact was, her memory of the specific event itself was starting to fade a little in her mind. She could only remember with clarity was Ianto holding a coffee mug toward her. And the next she was being held back by Owen and Gwen, the knife bloodied and clutched in her hand. And the rage…she'd felt such rage.

The technician shook a little at the memory, but refocused back on Harry. "Jack told me you said ghosts can't possess people," she said.

Harry nodded. "That's right."

"But if that's the case then it would mean that what I did came from inside of me somehow," she concluded, worryingly. She felt Jack at her side, silently pressing a hand to hers.

"No, it doesn't mean that," the wizard disagreed, gently. "Ghosts can't possess people, but they can still influence people. Their essence can be pretty powerful and with certain ghosts that's more effective than a possession." Harry jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the necromancer who remained hanging back. "Bob'll tell you. He's done tons of stuff to freak me out when I've annoyed him."

It was meant to be a joke and Bob gave Tosh a small smile, which she returned with a wary one of her own. "Although there's no power on earth to inspire Harry to clean his apartment," the ghost mentioned.

"So if Tanizaki's ghost can affect people, why's he doing it now?" Jack interjected. "We've all been down in the basement before. Maybe not in that room, but we've all been down there. Why is he acting up now?"

"Are you still having power issues?" Harry asked.

"Off and on," Tosh answered for him. "From what Owen tells me," she added when Jack gave her a surprised glance. "I haven't been here for two days, but he said it doesn't last long though."

"And I've ordered for no one else to go downstairs," Jack added.

Harry mulled the information over in his head. "Right," he murmured. "Okay, I'm going to have to take a look in that room. But first I'd like a minute with Bob to go over some stuff."

"Stuff?" Jack inquired.

"Yeah, _wizard_ stuff," Harry answered, pointedly.

* * *

"I'm starting to dislike that guy," Harry told Bob when they were left in the conference room to talk alone.

The necromancer raised an eyebrow. "Because you had such warm feelings for him before?"

"He's a control freak," the wizard declared with a grimace as he glared at the door Harkness had just exited. What he'd learned about Torchwood's policies and their treatment of Tanizaki's family had hardly endeared Jack to him.

"Are you certain it's not your own adversity to authority speaking?"

"Maybe," Harry considered, taking a seat in one of the many chairs. "Still doesn't change the fact that he's a control freak. This is why I don't work for a company. Bureaucratic crap."

"Because there are so many companies in need of your services?"

"Fine," Harry snapped. "But even if they did, I still wouldn't."

Bob snorted. "Noted for the future."

"So what do you think?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to the case. "According to Captain Iron Fist, Tanizaki died almost a year ago. And he hasn't tried to make contact since we got Annie's ghost to move on."

"If Tanizaki's death was as violent as Annie Braithwaite's, the shock of it could be keeping him grounded here," Bob theorized. "Even if he is as disoriented as she was, his emotions over his demise could be strong enough to project outward and influence Ms. Sato when she got near."

"That was some pretty power influencing," Harry mused. "She said she felt angry. In rage, even…"

Bob narrowed his eyes when Harry's voice trailed off. "A swift exorcism maybe in order to minimize further damage," the necromancer advised, cautiously. "I trust you brought the proper materials."

"Yeah," Harry answered, distracted. "But I'm going to talk to him first."

"Him?"

"Tanizaki," clarified Harry. "If you're right then he's in pain. I can't just force him out without finding out if there's something I can do to help that. His family has the wrong body, Bob. He can't even have a small peace of mind from a real funeral. Who wouldn't be angry?" The ghost stared at him, silently. "What?" Harry demanded under the scrutiny.

"Are you looking at this case or are you still looking at Christine Graham's?" inquired the spirit.

"That's got nothing to do with this," Harry stated. Bob's gaze didn't waver. "I couldn't help her, but maybe I can with him. What's wrong with that?"

"You just said the two cases were not related."

"I'd still feel the same even if I hadn't taken on Christine's case," snapped Harry. "If he's got some unfinished business that I could help him with to make it easier for him to move on, then that's a good thing."

"That," said Bob, pointedly. "Would depend on the nature of the unfinished business."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

All recognizable dialogue is from "Cyberwoman."

* * *

Noting that it was close to midnight, Tosh sent a longing glance toward the inert coffee machine. It annoyed her somewhat that despite her abilities to reconstruct alien technological tools with barely a basic guideline, she couldn't extract drinkable coffee from the contraption. A little away from her, Jack and Harry Dresden were arguing. They were doing it in moderately low tones, as if it would somehow prevent Tosh from overhearing, despite the fact that she was only a few feet away. But she took the hint and kept her eyes on her computer monitor and eavesdropped instead.

"I work better alone," Harry insisted. "Besides, you come with me and it might disrupt the whole thing."

Tosh's eyes flickered over to the ghost who stood a little closer to her station, giving the two arguing men some distance. There was a well-covered, but still visible smirk on the pale face and Tosh realized Harry was probably just lying to get away from Jack during his investigation. Noticing her stare, Bob changed the smirk to a smile, which spoke of some parental-like indulgence toward Harry and his moods. Tosh got that. There were days when the team had to indulge Jack's.

"May I ask you something?" asked Tosh, privately to Bob.

"Certainly." He gave her an encouraging smile, which made the technician feel like a frightened child being soothed. Which, she supposed, wasn't too far the truth considering her earlier reaction to his presence.

She cleared her throat. "Why are you haunting Mr. Dresden?"

"I am not haunting Harry exactly," answered Bob. "I am haunting…if you wish to call it that, my skull. Of which he is the current owner."

"Why do you haunt your skull?"

The smile that Bob now gave her was also an indulgent one, if a bit worn looking. "I have no choice in the matter."

"Oh." Tosh got the feeling she'd just treaded into personal territory and backpedaled, not wanting to upset anyone, let alone a ghost. But curiosity toward her larger question pushed her to ask other ones. "If you've remained here then did you ever get a chance to see what death was like? I mean, what followed afterwards?"

For a moment, Bob looked conflicted as to whether or not he should answer her. The spirit's pale fingers absently twisted a dark ring Tosh hadn't noticed until just now at the gesture. "I did see what lay beyond one's demise," he finally replied, pacing out his words. "Or at least a part of it."

Tosh frowned. "A part?"

"The afterlife is more complex than one tends to believe, Ms. Sato," Bob commented, his eyes darkening.

"You mean past the notions of heaven and hell?"

"And the places in between. Eternal places."

Tosh swallowed at that, nervously pulling at the hem of her sleeve. "It's just," she began. "I know someone who died. But he came back," she added, vaguely. "And he said there was nothing. Just darkness." She pulled her eyes up from her hands to look back at the ghost whose expression was unreadable. "Is there nothing more than that?"

"There is, unfortunately, no clear answer. What your friend has described is one possibility, I suppose. But not the one I have experienced and what I know to be true for me."

"What you know to be true," Tosh pressed. "Are you still alone?" For her, this is what terrified her the most. That she would die one day and be trapped forever in an isolating darkness.

Bob shook his head. "No. For me, I was very much not alone."

While the answer was the one Tosh had been hoping for, the shadow on the ghost's face as he spoke his reply was far from comforting.

* * *

"You can't use comms," Jack stated, obstinately to Harry's protests. "How are we supposed to stay in communication with you if get knocked out?"

"Look, if anything down there knocks me out, it'll probably knock you out too," retorted Harry. But seeing that he could waste possibly the entire night on this argument, he finally relented a little. "Give me fifteen minutes," said the wizard. "If I'm not back up here in fifteen minutes, you can come down and get me."

"And I can track him," Tosh offered.

Harry pointed an indicating finger at her, giving Jack a 'See? How can you argue with that?' smile. Jack heaved a sigh. "You remember how to get there?"

* * *

Armed with a flashlight and his hockey stick, Harry nudged open the storage room door. It looked more or less exactly the same since the last time he'd been inside it to exorcise Annie Braithwaite's ghost. Cautiously, the wizard focused and attempted to get a sense a spirit. There was a slight flicker of something. Something confused, disoriented…frightened. Harry closed his eyes and reached forward. But as soon as he did, whatever had been hedging at the edges of his awareness suddenly withdrew from him.

Harry opened his eyes. "It's okay," he whispered to the empty room. "I'm here to help you." It was a gentler approach than his usual, but felt a great need to get this right. "Just talk to me," he requested. "I can help. Just please, talk to me."

Something flickered and shuttered at the periphery of Harry's left. He turned quickly, but saw only a small, red lamp. And then he remembered the room had been completely empty before…Harry froze as a rhythmic hissing sound filled the air, like a ventilator. Soon the noise was accompanied by electronic beeps. A distinctive chill settled into the wizard's bones. He slowly turned to face the back of the large room again. And he saw…them.

_"My god! It's not possible! One of them survived."  
"This is Lisa."_

There was a woman laid out on a tilted table of some sort. Or at least, Harry thought she was a woman. Her body was more than half covered in metal. Her face, the little Harry could see of it, was shrouded in misery, even as she gave a tiny smile to the man by her side who tenderly clutched at her metal-lined fingers. To her left, Harry saw a widely smiling Tanizaki.

_"She's the only one left. Across the world…"_

Despite himself, Harry moved closer to the three figures at Tanizaki's awe-induced words. The wizard's heart pounded, not out of fear, but excitement, fascination. This woman…he'd never seen anything like her. It was incredible. All he wanted to do was touch where the silver met her skin to see how the two were fused. Was there hair underneath that metal helmet? Could she hear through it? Unknowingly, Harry reached out a hand.

_"Thank you, thank you so much. Bringing me here. I never thought to get my chance to study, to work with anything like this!"_

Snapping back to attention, Harry snatched back his arm. _What the hell?_ The wizard blinked furiously, shaking his head a little. The excitement that he thought had been bubbling up inside him now shifted and fell away. That hadn't been his emotion. It was Tanizaki's, projected strongly enough so that Harry had felt it himself. Not only felt it, but believed for that moment that the excitement had been his. That was a little disturbing. In the past, he had vaguely felt echoes of emotions from the lingering spirits he'd tried to exorcise. But he'd never had the experience of accidentally mixing up who was feeling what.

_"What is the last thing you remember before coming here?"  
"Pain. I remember my body burning with pain."  
_  
Harry felt a wave of sympathy and he couldn't tell if that was from him or Tanizaki. Maybe it was both of them. The feeling was starting to surround him and the wizard did his best to try and detach himself a little. But even as he mentally moved backwards, he could still feel Tanizaki's emotions. Sympathy. Fascination. Resolution. To help. He wanted to help. To fix her.

The scene front of Harry continued, but the sound grew lower and more muffled, as if the three figures were talking now through water. Soon the images themselves began to blur. Stepping forward, Harry now did reach out a hand. "Wait…don't-"

_"Sometimes in order to save what we love, we have to risk losing it."_

Tanizaki's voice spoke loudly and clearly from somewhere behind him, giving the wizard a start. He spun around and found himself face to face with the frozen stare of the woman in metal. "Jesus!" Harry exclaimed. A silver hand, the same one that had been so lovingly cradled in the very human one of Ianto Jones shot forward toward the wizard's throat. Despite knowing it was only a vision, Harry stumbled backwards.

Fear gripped him as he felt something cold and unforgiving clasp at his throat. His brain told him he wasn't being strangled. That was impossible. But the terror attack him was making him blind to the logic. He couldn't get his bearings. He was on the hard ground, but his body somehow felt suspended. There was a mechanical whirling noise and the phantom grip on his neck was gone. Harry fell back, his body slamming onto the floor. His shoulder screamed in agony as barely healed flesh and muscles pulled.  
_  
"Lisa! Let me go!" _

"Let me go!" Harry repeated, his voice sounding on the edge of hysteria. He couldn't breath, he couldn't move. His heart was now hammering in his ears and at such a rate he felt it might explode out of his chest. Panic and horror clawed at him, surrounded him and began to slowly suffocate him as Harry heard screams fill his world. A sharp, searing pain lanced his forehead from out of nowhere, followed by the nauseating smell of burning flesh.

"Stop! Stop it!" he yelled.

Floundering, Harry grappled for his hockey stick, which lay only a few inches away from him. Clutching his makeshift staff, he pushed out a bubble of energy, desperately trying to put up some sort of protection for himself. But the disoriented, fear-drenched state of his mind made his magic unfocused and it burst outward in useless shocks.  
_  
I'm Harry Dresden, _the wizard shouted to himself, in an attempt to separate and focus. _Not Tanizaki. I'm Harry and this has nothing to do with me. This has nothing to do with me. I'm Harry Dresden,_ he chanted silently.

He let out another surge of power, but it was about as productive as the first attempt. The overwhelming sensation of terror continued to overlap every inch of Harry and drown him in it. But even as it did so, underneath the agony and horror, the wizard could feel sadness and the incomprehension at why this had to be one's death. Tanizaki's death.

_I only wished to help. I only wished to help. _

"I can help you," Harry rasped, hearing the miserable litany. "I want to help you," he managed, a bolt of sorrow now diluting the fear. "Please…please…I want to help you…"

And then there was rage.

* * *

A piercing alarm filled the Hub. Tosh and Bob had been in quiet conversation when the noise startled the ghost to nearly putting his hands to his ears.

"What on earth?" he exclaimed at the sound.

"The Rift alarm!" Tosh paled as she recognized the intensity of the shrieking bells. It wasn't just a regular indicator of Rift activity. It was the big one. "The Rift's opening!"

The technician ran from her station over to the scanner she'd installed into their main Rift Manipulator. She nearly collided into Jack as both rushed to see the readings.

"Tosh, what the hell?" Jack demanded.

They both stared at the scanner readings that insistently told them that despite the ear-piercing sounds, the Rift was completely inactive. Not even a blip.

"I don't understand!" Tosh shouted to be heard. She could have sworn she hadn't set the volume to be THIS loud. All of Cardiff was going to wake up if this continued. "The alarm is triggered to only go off when the Rift frequencies reach the ground zero level! But there's nothing!"

"Check to make sure!" Jack yelled back.

"It's Harry!" A voice impressively bellowed over the blaring alarm. "He's done something to trigger your alarms. You need to get down to the basement, Captain."

"Why is he doing that?" shouted Jack.

"He's not doing it on purpose," Bob retorted. Tosh marveled at how the ghost's voice managed to cut through the bells. "So if you would be so kind as to go GET HIM NOW!"

Even Jack started a little at the command, but he gave a short nod as he turned to run for the stairs. "Tosh, turn this thing off before we lose our hearing," he ordered as he took off.

Her mouth set in a determined, thin line, Tosh typed in the override codes and the Hub finally fell into a blissful silence. "Thank god for that," Bob muttered. Tosh stared at her monitor as it confirmed for her that there hadn't been any Rift movement whatsoever before turning to the spirit.

"How did he do that?" she asked, not caring that sounded accusatory. "He's able to generate the same energy frequencies as the Rift?"

"It was only an educated guess of mine," said Bob, choosing to ignore the glare he was getting. "The last time my skull got transported through this Rift of yours, Harry was working on a spell and made an error. Whatever it is your establishment sits on, the energy it produces cannot be so different from the magic wizards use."

Tosh opened her mouth to ask what sort of energy wizards utilized when a much softer, but noticeable alarm sounded as the cog door rolled back and the remaining three members of Torchwood rushed in. It was at that moment that Tosh realized she'd forgotten about the additional alarms she'd programmed into everyone's mobiles that were set to go off if the main one in the Hub ever did.

_Oh, no…_

Gwen was wearing clothes that clearly indicated she'd grabbed whatever had been closest to her in her rush to get to the Hub. Ianto didn't look much better with his hair skewed in random directions. Dimly, Tosh noted that of the three, Owen ironically looked the most put together. But then again, he didn't sleep these days.

"Jack!" Gwen called out. "What's going on? The alarm's gone off!" All three of them stopped short when they saw the technician. "Tosh?"

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Owen demanded, seeing Bob.

"Charming," the ghost snorted.

Tosh looked to Bob and then back to her team members, at a bit of a loss.

"Where's Jack?" Ianto finally asked.

As if on cue, the captain emerged from the stairs, half dragging Harry Dresden along with him.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Jack cursed when he realized he had an audience. An arm draped across the captain's shoulders for support, Harry was disoriented and nearly dead weight. The fact that he had a good three inches on Jack wasn't making it any easier to maneuver him.

"Jack, what's going on?" Gwen demanded again.

"A little help here?" Jack requested instead.

Owen moved to assist, but hung back when Bob beat him to it. The doctor frowned, however, when the older man did nothing to help Jack carry Harry's weight, but just stand close.

Leaning forward until his pale face was directly in front of the wizard's unfocused one, Bob spoke. "Harry, can you hear me?"

The wizard only swayed hazily at the question. "Wha? Get away," he muttered, directing his order at Jack who only continued to hold onto him.

"Is he okay?" the captain asked.

Before Bob could respond, Harry mustered up enough awareness to push a hand to Jack's chest to shove him away. "Let me go!" he rasped.

"Hold onto him," Bob ordered quickly as Jack stumbled a little.

"You could help him," Owen barked, annoyed at Bob's lack of physical assistance. The doctor marched swiftly to get to Harry's other side, fully intending on using his shoulder to push Bob aside. He nearly fell to the floor when his entire body passed through Bob's like nothing was there. Gwen made a choking sound.

"Bloody hell!" Owen exclaimed, barely regaining his balance. When he whipped around to see Bob giving him a stunned look. Amidst his own indignation of having just walked through a…Owen wasn't sure what, he felt a wave of anxiety at the pale eyes that stared at him, looking distinctly horrified. Not so much by having just been walked through, but by Owen himself.

But the continued thrashing sounds of Harry behind him broke Bob from his shock. Getting back to the task at hand, Bob kept his voice controlled and spoke sharply. "Harry, stop struggling and focus!"

At the familiar tone that allowed for no argument, Harry finally seemed to blink and see the ghost hovering in front of him. "Bob?"

"Very good," the ghost said, briskly. "Now stop trying to shove the captain away from you. He's the only thing holding you upright."

"Bob, he's down there," Harry said, his eyes fearful. "He's…it's bad. It's everywhere. It was like Christina, even worse. I couldn't tell what was his and what was mine…" The wizard babbled on and Jack shot a worried look to Bob, who kept his eyes trained on Harry, taking in what he was saying.

"He needs to lie down," the ghost stated, when Harry sagged all the more.

As Owen did before, Ianto moved forward to get to Harry's other side to help Jack lead him to the sofa in the main area. This time, Bob took two large steps back to give them room without another accidental walk through. He only trailed behind them as they dropped Harry onto the cushions.

"Could someone please tell me what's going on?" Owen demanded. "Harkness, who are these people?"

"No one. Later," Jack snapped, pushing Harry back.

Despite slowly losing his battle with unconsciousness, the wizard's eyes flickered up to the captain at Jack's dismissing tone. "Bob, c'mere," he slurred. The ghost did as he was told and leaned over when Harry crooked his finger at him. The wizard murmured something to the spirit that only he could hear. A frown settled on Bob's face as he straightened up.

"Harry…"

"S'n order," Harry whispered.

"Re-word it," the ghost requested, sounding somewhat plaintive. "Harry, you need to-"

"Sorry," Harry muttered before dropping off. Bob silently cursed every word he could think of from the 13th century onward.

A few moments of silence passed as the rest of Torchwood stared at the wizard, now passed out on their sofa. "Jack, what's happening?" Ianto finally asked.

Before Jack had a chance to answer, Bob cut in, "You have a ghost haunting your basement," he stated, looking unhappy as he did so.

"Yeah, we're looking at you," Owen replied, sourly.

"Not me, you fool," Bob retorted.

"Who is it?" Gwen managed to ask, her eyes going back and forth from Harry's prone form to Bob's pale one.

"Don't answer that," Jack ordered.

The ghost gave him a humorless smile. "Unfortunately, captain, you are not the owner of my skull." He turned his attention back to Gwen. "Dr. Tanizaki."

The room got noticeably more uncomfortable as Gwen and Owen tried not to look immediately at Ianto and completely failed. The Welshman ignored the stares, but gave a mortified one of his own at Bob's words.

"So you're here…to?" Gwen continued, directing her question at Bob.

The ghost sighed and even as he saw Jack gesturing for him to wait, he answered, "We were hired by Captain Harkness to rid you of it. As we did with the other one a few months back."

"The other one?" Ianto asked, strained.

Jack shot Bob a warning look. "Bob-"

"Annie Braithwaite," the spirit responded, looking fairly miserable at speaking. "She was also in your basement."

"I'll explain it, dammit!" Jack all but shouted.

"Then you'd better be quick about it before they ask me another question," Bob retorted.

"Maybe Owen should take a look at Mr. Dresden," Toshiko finally suggested quietly. "Make sure he's alright?" she added to Bob.

The ghost gave her an appreciative smile for the thoughtful intrusion. "He only needs to sleep it off."

"I'll be the judge of that," Owen said, stubbornly.

"You really needn't," Bob insisted, giving Owen the same uneasy look from before that was starting to annoy the physician.

"Are you two doctors?" demanded Owen, rhetorically.

Bob sighed again, helplessly. "No," he answered as he was cursed to do. "We're wizards."

If the situation hadn't been so bizarre, Owen might have laughed.

* * *

It was well past midnight as everyone sat in the conference room, having left Harry on the couch. No one asked for coffee despite the late hour, fairly sure that for once, Ianto would refuse if it meant he'd have to leave the room for even a moment. On the small table toward the back of the room sat the decorated skull that now everyone recognized. The ghost stood closely by it, trying to put some acceptable distance between himself and the table where everyone sat. Jack spoke in his most official tone, as if he was just giving them a briefing on their latest mission. Only any tactical evasions Jack attempted against his team's probing questions were quickly thwarted as Bob answered every question uttered if he knew the correct response, much to the captain's chagrin.

"I have no control over it," the ghost replied through fairly clenched teeth when Jack demanded why Bob couldn't keep silent. "Harry has ordered me to answer any and all questions truthfully."

"Then leave the room," Jack said, irritated.

"No, don't," Gwen cut in.

Jack looked over at the ex-policewoman with a frown. "Gwen."

"No," she insisted. "As far as I can see, he's the only one who'll be truthful with us," she said, indicating Bob, who stood stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back. "He stays." She met Jack's eyes, challenging him.

"I'm telling you the truth now," Jack said, after a beat.

"Only because you were found out," Ianto mentioned from his chair, bitterly. "You weren't ever going to tell us, were you?"

"No, he wasn't," Bob answered, earning a poisonous glare from Jack. But the captain looked chastened and almost nervous by the expression Ianto's face.

"I didn't think it would be necessary," said Jack, ignoring that his voice sounded plaintive even to him. "I thought I could take care of it without involving you. Any of you," he added as a second thought.

"You didn't think it was necessary," Ianto repeated slowly. His tone was measured and eerily calm. Jack inwardly winced. If ever there was a sign Ianto was angry, it was a flawlessly calm tone of voice.

"We'll talk about it later," Jack replied. The Welshman gave him a skeptically cold look. "Really, Ianto. We'll talk about it," he promised. "Right now, we need to figure out what to do." Jack look back at Bob. "Since you're the answer man, what did Dresden mean when he said it was just like Christina?" If it was Q&A time, he might as well get something out of it other a possible bullet in the head from Ianto, judging by the way the archivist was looking at him.

"It was another case he worked on with similar circumstances. A young woman had been attacked and killed in her home several years back and her ghost was haunting the new residents of the house. Like your Dr. Tanizaki, the brutal circumstances of her death had left her an unusual amount of rage that affected those surrounding her."

"Did he exorcise her?" asked Jack.

"Yes," Bob answered, looking uncomfortable.

"And she was gone? Completely?"

The ghost hedged a moment before replying. "Yes."

Jack nodded. "Good. When he wakes up, he can do the same for us."

As it wasn't a question, Bob remained quiet. Silence slid by before it was broken by Owen.

"So, you really have to answer everything we ask?"

"Owen, some focus," Tosh sighed.

"If I know the answer then yes," replied Bob, suspiciously. "And not if you take back the question."

"You're telling us this now?" Jack demanded, angrily feeling vaguely suckered.

The ghost shrugged. "You never asked under what circumstances I could not answer."

"Okay, then," Owen rubbed his hands in anticipation. "Why haven't you gone to the great beyond?"

It looked for a moment that the ghost was going to give him an acerbic comment back, but a pinched look passed by his face as he reluctantly answered, "I am cursed to remain tied to my skull."

"What, as like punishment?"

"…Yes."

"What did you do?" Gwen asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I…committed a crime."

"What sort of crime?" pressed Owen.

Bob hesitated, looking trapped as the curse clenched at his soul, ordering him to be obedient.

"What sort of crime?" asked Owen again.

"Owen, stop it," ordered Ianto, seeing the expression on the ghost's face. "Take back the question."

Owen looked nonplussed. "What?"

"Take it back," Ianto insisted.

Owen had half a mind to refuse, but caught Tosh's glare and relented. "Fine, fine. I take it back." Bob visibly relaxed. When Owen opened his mouth again, Tosh kicked him under the table. "Fine, I'm going to go check on Harry Potter downstairs then," he stated.

"Highly original," Bob murmured as the physician slid out of his chair to go.

"May I ask you a question?" Ianto requested. "One related to this case?"

As with Toshiko, the necromancer felt a wave of gratitude at the polite gesture of asking before and nodded.

"When Mr. Dresden performs this exorcism will…" he hesitated. "Will Dr. Tanizaki be free? At peace, I mean."

"Only if he wishes to go," Bob answered. "Certain ghosts are less willing to move on."

"And if Dr. Tanizaki isn't?"

"The exorcism might prove to be more involved-"

"Can he do it?" Jack interrupted.

"Yes, he can," said Bob. "But to answer Mr. Jones' question in regards to Dr. Tanizaki's peace of mind…that is not guaranteed." He gave Ianto a wan smile. "When Harry wakes up we'll know more."

"If he's forced out, what will happen to him?" Ianto questioned, quietly.

"There's no straightforward answer," the ghost responded. "His soul may remained trapped."

"Trapped?" Gwen asked, looking vaguely horrified.

"On the Other Side."

"Is that one of the eternal places you mentioned earlier?" Tosh jumped in.

Bob nodded.

"Look," Jack said. "As Bob here has told us, we don't know what could happen. But the important thing is to have him move on. Wherever that it is, isn't our concern."

"Speak for yourself, sir," Ianto bit out, furiously. "It is quite a large concern to me."

"Ianto," Jack began.

"It's my fault!" Ianto snapped. "It's my fault," he repeated, softly, half to himself. "I got him killed. I'm not going to have him trapped somewhere now for all eternity."

"He's trapped where he is now from what I can tell," Jack argued.

"You might be surprised to know that your opinion weighs very little with me right now," Ianto stated, matching Jack's steely blue eyes with his own.

Jack was vaguely aware the comment was justified. He also knew Ianto was angry and that was justified as well. But in general, Jack didn't respond well when he was directly opposed in his actions to protect someone he cared about. Even if the opposition came from the said someone. "So what's your suggestion?" he demanded. "Leave him down in the Hub forever? And I take back those questions before you reply," he added sharply to Bob before the ghost was forced to answer.

Seeing the talk Jack and Ianto were planning on having later was about to happen now, Tosh exchanged looks with Gwen to see if there was a way they could slide out of the room without drawing any attention to give them some privacy. But before she could formulate a plan, Owen's voice called out from below.

"He's coming 'round!"

A flicker of relief passed by Bob's face, but was soon replaced with frustration when he remembered he couldn't move downstairs unless someone took his skull first. Gwen and Tosh glanced nervously back to Jack and Ianto who still sat in their silent staring contest. Finally, Jack spoke, keeping his eyes trained on the archivist, "Tosh, Gwen, go downstairs with Bob. We'll join you in a minute."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the delay in updating! Many thanks to everyone who has so far reviewed!!

* * *

Harry was dreaming. He was finding it very enjoyable and considered that maybe that wasn't such a good thing. Mainly because in his dream he was strangling someone. Faintly, the wizard noted that he should have been concerned with why he was in the midst of murder and why he was finding it so satisfying. But all he could really think about was that it was really hard to effectively wrap your hands around someone's throat when they were wearing a tie done in a half-Windsor. Still, he was managing pretty well. Another few moments and his victim would be dead and he was really looking forward to that.

But just as he was reaching what had to be the final few seconds, despair welled up in his chest. He felt a sob running its way up and suddenly, everything felt significantly less good. He let his hands fall from the convulsing throat and barely registered the desperate gasps of air. Despondent, tears blurred his vision as he rocked back on his heels, away from his would be victim.

Home. He really wanted to go home. He wanted to see his house, his bed, his…wife?

Harry blinked, dazed for a moment. He stared down at his right hand, his fingers aching from the strain earlier.

_Dammit_, he swore. _It's not me…again. _

He could hear someone crying harshly, though the noise sounded muted.

_Tanizaki._

Harry woke up with a start, though he kept his eyes shut. Something cool and uncomfortable was touching his previously injured shoulder that now ached all the more again.

"Bob, cut it out," he mumbled, reaching with one hand by reflex to ineffectively swipe at the spirit's cold fingers. Only he came into contact with something solid.

"He's coming 'round!" a voice called out.

Blearily, Harry opened one eye and saw a surly looking pale face staring down at him. "Ow," Harry stated flatly when he saw Pale Face's fingers still pressing down on his bad shoulder.

"Ow is right," Pale Face agreed, not looking terribly sympathetic. "That wound on your shoulder's barely healed over. You're lucky it didn't start bleeding again."

Pulling the other eye open, Harry saw Toshiko, along with another dark-haired woman and Bob, staring down at him. The dark-haired woman was gingerly holding a folder, on top of which sat Bob's skull. Peering up at the semi-circle of faces, Harry murmured, "Auntie Em, I'm so happy to be home."

Bob rolled his eyes while the dark-haired woman frowned and shot Pale Face a worried glance. "He's not concussed is he, Owen?"

"No, Mrs. Williams," Bob answered, annoyed. "That's just Harry."

"Hey, it's a classic," the wizard defended, wincing as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. He actually felt somewhat relieved that he sounded like Harry to Bob. In fact, after the last hour, he wanted to be as much Harry as possible in order to try and get some distance between himself and Tanizaki's emotions. And jokes and sarcasm were the best ways to go. "Harkness didn't fire me, did he?" he asked, addressing the two new faces.

"No, the captain is having a brief conference at the moment," Bob answered again, looking put out. "Harry, if you'd be so kind?" Harry looked blank. "The order," the ghost gritted out.

"Oh, yeah," the wizard realized. Judging by the hard gleam in Bob's eyes, he'd be getting an earful later. "Sorry, uh…order lifted. Don't answer any questions if you don't feel like it."

Bob glared. "I never feel like it," he stated, chilly. Toshiko gave a small yelp as the ghost burst into smoke and sparks next to her and vanished.

"What…?! Where's he gone?" Owen demanded.

"To sulk in his skull," Harry said, though he very distinctly noticed the smoke hadn't traveled anywhere near the bones.

* * *

When Jack was at ease, he tended to move about a lot, may it be a strut or a swagger. When he was nervous, he defaulted to his Most Charming setting in attempts to bypass whatever was making him nervous to begin with. When he was deeply anxious, he was still with barely a muscle twitching.

Ianto noticed that Jack, at the moment, was sitting like a statue in his seat and while it was a petty thing, he felt a vague flicker of satisfaction.

"I guess this answers your question earlier about what happened to the skull," Jack finally said with a try at a smile that got quickly shot down by the glare Ianto was giving him back.

"What exactly was your plan in terms of explaining why Tosh took a stab at me?" Ianto asked.

"I…was planning on crossing that bridge when I got there," admitted Jack, earning a heavy sigh from his archivist. In truth, he hadn't really been thinking all that much about what lay ahead other than the best course of action to try and finish this without involving Ianto. He hadn't liked roping in Tosh, but for her own sake she had to know. And her promise of secrecy he trusted. "Look, I was going to take care of it after I got Dresden to do the job. I wasn't going to lie…"

"You can't lie when we can't ask you the proper questions since we wouldn't know anything," Ianto snapped. "You're withholding information. And just because you're not lying doesn't make the other any better."

"I know that," Jack replied, quietly. And Ianto saw that he did. It just didn't stop him. Because at this point, hiding was too second nature and easy for Jack and it had been so obviously since before he'd even been a part of Torchwood. Getting a hidden truth out of him was near impossible if the Captain set his mind to it, which was great for the job. Not so great when your relations with him extended beyond that.

"I don't care about the secrets you keep about yourself. That's your right. But this is different." Ianto paused, mulling a thought over in his head. "I understand if after Flat Holms you wouldn't want to…" he grappled for the right word. "Share," he decided. "But this is related to something I did."

"This isn't a trust issue," Jack protested. "Of course I trust you."

Ianto gave him a measuring look. "Do you really, Jack?"

The way he asked that, Jack felt like he was missing some other hidden question. "I tried to get Dresden to finish this without you knowing so you wouldn't have to deal with it," Jack explained, frustration mounting. "You can't get angry with me for trying to protect you."  
_  
No, but I can get angry with you for treating me like I'm six_, Ianto retorted in his head. But he held back the remark as well as the accompanying scowl. His neutral expression, however, seemed to set Jack on edge even more.

"Don't close off like that," said Jack, sharply.

Ianto gave a humorless laugh. "Which do you want? Me angry or not?"

There was a heavy sigh. "Ianto."

"Jack," Ianto returned, brushing at invisible loose threads on his cuff.

Jack slid from his seat at the head of the conference table to the one next to the archivist. Reaching out, he rested a hand on Ianto's wrist, forcing the younger man to look at him. "What's wrong with me wanting to keep you safe?" he asked. There was something plaintive, almost desperate sounding in Jack's voice. And along with his now close proximity, Ianto felt his anger melt a little. He couldn't rail at Jack for being so obsessively protective. This was Jack's pathology, the need to always be the one to keep everyone safe no matter what. It was a mental standard that was going to cause the captain a lot of agony down the line. And no matter what Jack might do, Ianto couldn't bring himself to contribute to Jack's unhappiness when Jack on his own was setting himself up for so much of it.

"Because I'm not in any danger," Ianto tried to explain in a gentler tone. "This isn't a life threatening attack, though even if it were, you shouldn't be keeping it swathed in secrets. It's about very bad memories for something I did that got people killed."

"Technically, getting stabbed at is a life threatening event," Jack pointed out.

"All in a day's work at Torchwood," Ianto shrugged. "And comparatively speaking, getting attacked by a regular human with a normal knife is refreshingly quaint." It wasn't big, but Ianto could clearly see the slight smile crawl across Jack's face at the comment. "Can we go down now and talk to Mr. Dresden?" asked Ianto.

"No choice now."

"Alright then," Ianto rephrased. "Can we talk to Mr. Dresden about how to help Doctor Tanizaki?"

Jack's eyes darkened. "I don't want you to make a bad choice because you feel guilty over what happened."

It felt a little hypocritical to Ianto that Jack would be warning against letting emotions cloud one's judgment, but he again decided that was best put away for another day. "I do feel guilty," the archivist admitted. "And I should be. Even if I wasn't, it doesn't change the fact that I owe him. I need to try."

There was an extended silence before Jack murmured a reluctant, "Okay." The older man's eyes were cast downward, staring at a spot just past where his hand was still wrapped around Ianto's wrist. He glanced up again when the wrist was pulled out of his grasp, though the hand attached to it now overlapped his.

"And even though you shouldn't do this again," said Ianto, kindly. "Thanks all the same."

They sat alone together a little longer before going down to join the others.

* * *

There was something slightly off about Owen Harper, only Harry couldn't quite figure out what. The doctor's fingers continued to be uncomfortably cold as they prodded the wizard's injured shoulder. When Owen leaned in to examine the aching wound, Harry attempted to surreptitiously study the concentrated, frowning face. Up close, the wizard noted the unhealthy dullness of Owen's skin along with a pasty pallor, which he supposed might be the norm for the citizens across the pond. And yet even stranger, despite all of Owen's disapproving mutterings and exaggerated scowls, there was a kind of empty stillness about the man that reminded Harry of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Any further contemplations were interrupted as Jack and Ianto joined the rest of them in the main area.

"How're you feeling?" asked Jack. The question was more perfunctory than out of genuine concern, not that Harry could really blame him.

"Like I need to sleep for a week," the wizard answered truthfully.

"He's aggravated an old injury," Owen concluded. "The stitches were only half healed when he pulled them. They're too far done for me to redo it, but he might need a painkiller."

"No painkillers," Harry said, firmly. "I'll manage without."

Owen snorted. "See what you say in the morning, mate."

"At least if I'm in agony I have a good reason to be rude." He caught a brief smile flicker across Toshiko's face at that. His eyes slid from her over to Ianto. Harry's hands twitched as he briefly noted the man's tie done in a half-Windsor. "I take it the gang's all here."

"Not quite," Jack noted. "Where's your ghost?" He looked expectantly at the skull that now sat on one of Harry's knees. The wizard had taken it from Gwen, not commenting when the former policewoman tried to casually throw out the folder it had been resting on without him noticing. Just from the feel of the bones in his hands, Harry knew Bob hadn't returned inside.

"He's brooding," Harry replied. He guessed it really wasn't lying if he couldn't confirm or deny that's exactly what Bob was doing…where ever he might be doing it. It wasn't like he could go very far.

"Tell him to get out here now," Jack ordered. "You wanted everyone all in this and that includes him." Next to him, Ianto gave a light cough. "Please," Jack added, grudgingly.

"That's the magic word," Harry quipped, earning a muttered "Oh, please" from Owen before giving the skull an ineffectual tap. "Bob, could you join us?"

This time it was Gwen who jumped, nearly colliding into Ianto when the ghost materialized a little too closely to her. Noticing the somewhat satisfied, smug expression on Bob's face, Harry shot him a look of his own that promptly got ignored. It seemed to Harry that the necromancer was enjoying himself a little too much with freaking people out.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but this is utter bollocks," Owen announced halfway through Harry's report. "I've accepted aliens. Faeries, fine. Ghosts, okay. Flesh-eating sheep, fact. But I'm drawing the sodding line at wizards named Harry."

"You buy fleshing-eating _sheep_, but magic is too much for you?" Harry demanded.

Skepticism wasn't exactly new to the wizard, but this was the first time the existence of his profession was rejected while faeries and cannibalistic sheep made the cut.

"I believe what I see," stated Owen with a stubborn squaring of his chin.

"You've seen man-eating sheep?"

"This is Wales. Man-eating sheep is what passes for culture."

"Oi!" Gwen smacked Owen's shoulder on behalf of the Welsh people with the spoon she'd used to stir her coffee. "Enough of that."

"Do you kids need a time out?" Jack inquired with an arched eyebrow.

In the chair next to the captain, Ianto discretely rubbed at his forehead with tense fingers with barely controlled irritation.

They were still gathered around the sofa in the main area, though the late hour had finally prompted a round of coffee, which was prepared and presented on a tray at a speed a lot faster than Harry thought was physically possible. He'd absently taken a sip of his plain black coffee and started a little at the taste that spread on his tongue before he'd carefully put the cup back on the table. He wasn't sure what to make of the disbelieving stares that one gesture had brought him from the others.

"Might we pick up this fascinating homicidal ovine discussion at a later juncture?" Bob suggested by Harry's right.

"Yes, please," Ianto agreed with more plea than request. "Can we help Doctor Tanizaki?"

Harry ran a hand down his face with a tired sigh. "It's complicated," he began. "Ever since he died down in the basement, he's been reliving his last few moments over and over again. It's made him confused."

"Confused?" Jack repeated.

"Scattered," Harry clarified. "With the amount of pain he's been under he can't focus on any one thing. His emotions jump from anger and fear to depression in quick switches. And it's only been building up more and more as time's gone on. So much so that it's finally bleeding out. That's what you felt when you were down there," he said to Toshiko. "The only real power a ghost has is to project their feelings onto those around them, like aura."

"So it was an attack then?" Owen questioned.

"No," Harry replied, defensively. "He's not doing it on purpose. He can't control his emotions. I'm not even entirely sure he understands he's a ghost."

"Like Eugene Jones," Gwen put in, directing her comment at Jack.

"If you…exorcise?" Tosh looked questioningly at Harry who gave her a nod. "If you exorcise him that'll release him?"

"An exorcism in this case might not be the solution. At least not right away."

"What's your offered solution?" Jack asked. With his arms crossed across his chest and feet firmly planted at shoulder's width, the defensive posture was unmistakable.

Harry set his mouth in a determined line, his dark eyes glittering with an accusatory gleam as he met Jack's unwavering stare. "I want to try and snap him out of the cycle he's in. He's been left abandoned and lost down there without even a proper burial. If I could communicate with him and get him to understand, it might give him some closure."

"Is that something you can do safely?" Was Jack's immediate next question.

"It can't be too terrible," Gwen commented, looking from her boss to Harry. She offered a diplomatic smile against the tension she could feel mounting. "You're talking about giving him a chance to revisit and remember his life before moving on, right? We did something similar with Eugene after he'd died and he moved on even without an exorcism."

"And how did Eugene die?" Harry snapped.

"Car accident," answered Gwen, sensing she'd just said the wrong thing.

The wizard gave a disparaging sigh. "Yeah, no," he stressed. "I'll be lucky if Tanizaki can even process the situation he's in. You're talking about a guy who died in a car accident. Tragic, but it's a car accident."

The former police woman shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean that it would-"

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if it was as simple as that," Harry ranted on, missing Gwen's contrite words all together. "Tanizaki got a metal pipe jammed into his skull. Right after he got a bolt shoved into his eye. A little more complicated."

"Harry, I think everyone here is very well aware of Doctor Tanizaki's demise," Bob cut in. "Move on."

At the interruption, Harry shot an angered look at the necromancer who only returned it with a clinical stare. Abruptly, the wizard swore to himself. The hour was late, he was tired and it was getting harder and harder to tell if the resentment he was feeling the echo of Tanizaki's or his own upset at how Torchwood seemed to treat the dead.

"Victims of violent deaths have the greatest chance of lingering because they can't understand what's happened," Harry finally said, keeping his voice leveled. "It makes it harder to release them."

"Back to my first question," Jack pressed. "How dangerous is it? And keep in mind that I just dragged your disoriented ass up from the basement before you passed out."

"It will have to be a double process," Bob answered before Harry could react with a prickly comment of his own. "The spell designed will have to be able to break the doctor's mental cycle while also holding back his emotions so as not to overwhelm Harry as he tries." The ghost folded his arms contemplatively as he stared off to a point past Jack's shoulder in thought. "It would need the right catalyst," he mused, the scholarly mind already starting to pick away at the logistics. "If he was to pass on without the proper release it may…" He trailed off, his eyes shifting over to Ianto who had sat listening, but now frowned in confusion at the look Bob was giving him. A slow, unhappy realization seeped into the spirit's pale features.

"Design?" Owen asked, breaking Bob from his thoughts. "So you've never done something like this before?" He took Bob and Harry's twin silences as an affirmative. "Great. Can't wait to be the test subject for this," he grumbled.

"What about a straight exorcism?" Jack asked. "That you've done. You can do one with Tanizaki?" He held up a hand as Ianto protested. "I just want to know all our options."

"No, Captain Harkness," Bob shook his head. "Harry is right on that account. A straight exorcism is not advisable in this case."

"What would you need in order to do your other spell?" Ianto asked.

Harry glanced up at the necromancer and saw the slightly disturbed look in the grave eyes. Bob was doing a good job of hiding it from the others, but twenty odd years of living together gave Harry an edge at being able to read his former teacher. They needed to talk, only not in front of an audience. "I need some sleep first," the wizard stated. It wasn't exactly a lie.

* * *

Back at his hotel, it took the last shred of Harry's energy to re-establish the protection shield in his room. Even such a simple spell left the wizard wanting to crawl into his bed and sleep for about a week after his encounter with Tanizaki. But he put off lying down on the mattress as he didn't trust himself to not drift off before he and Bob could talk.

For his part, the ghost remained silent, staring at a spot on the floor, his features strained.

"I'm sorry about the order," Harry apologized. "I just didn't want Harkness to talk his way out of things while I was out. But I shouldn't have worded the command like that."

"I'm not fixating on that, Harry," Bob responded, pulling himself out of his reverie.

The wizard shrugged. "I know that. Still, I am sorry. And you did take off afterwards."

"Yes," the ghost agreed with an oft worn, put out expression. "But I was not sulking in my skull, as you so kindly put it."

Harry grinned. Strangely, a cranky Bob was almost comforting in its familiarity and did wonders to soothe the wizard. "I know that too. So what's the deal?"

"I was doing some reconnaissance work for you."

"Is that a fancy way of telling me you were spying?"

"Obviously," said Bob, smugly. "The captain and Mr. Jones held a private conference while the others gathered downstairs. It was a stretch given the location of my skull, but I was able to hear them from just below the conference table."

"Shamelessness becomes you, Bob," stated Harry, sounding the slightest bit proud.

"Why thank you."

Finally giving up on his battle to remain standing, Harry sank down on the bed to at least remove his shoes. "So? Find out anything interesting?"

"Mr. Jones has a great desire to correct matters with Doctor Tanizaki. His guilt over the man's death being a large factor."

"Can't say that I blame him," Harry grunted, pulling off one shoe. "And that's not exactly new information."

"The captain wishes to ensure Mr. Jones' safety in both the physical and emotional sense," the necromancer continued.

"Again, not really a newsflash, Bob."

"And it seems the captain and Mr. Jones are involved in a sexual relationship with one another."

Harry very audibly dropped his other shoe. Bob smirked. "What? You're serious?" the wizard asked, gaping. "How'd you find that out?"

"Centuries of existence," Bob proclaimed. "One tends to be able to discern such things after observing human behavior for an extended period. And I've spent many hours with little else to do in my time."

"O…kay, that's kind of creepy," Harry stated.

"I haven't yet even told you about Doctor Harper."

"What? He's getting it on with another team member?"

"Doubtful," Bob answered. "He's dead."

Harry gave a bemused grin. "Why? What'd he say to you?"

"No, I mean it literally, Harry. Doctor Harper is deceased. The man walks around without a heartbeat. He walked through me earlier and I could tell."

The wizard blinked silently for a few minutes. Questions ran through his mind, each one slightly more worked up than the last. Strangely, all he could blurt out was an affronted, "I've gotten grief about magic not existing from a _zombie_?"

Bob rolled his eyes at the outburst, but indulgently answered. "It appears so. Although it doesn't appear that he's...decaying in any way."

"How that hell is that possible?" Harry demanded. "No one can...no one's _supposed _to raise the dead!"

"Technically, he hasn't been raised," Bob pointed out. "He wasn't brought back to life as he is still technically dead. But as it is, it's not a spell," he continued, thinking back on the odd sensation he'd felt when Harper's body had passed through his. "There's an energy within him, but it's not any kind of magic I've ever known."

Sighing, Harry raked his fingers through his hair. "Okay...let's just...he's not dangerous, is he?" he asked, nervously.

"He doesn't strike me as the brain craving type, no," the ghost answered, dryly.

"Bob."

"Whatever has done this, it's not by magic, Harry," Bob stated, calmly. "And I would know. Doctor Harper is simply existing within a corpse."

"Right. Okay, let's...just...never mind that for now. I need to go over first things first about this case" The wizard wondered when putting a zombie situation on the back burner became an option in his life. He stared at nothing, now realizing why Harper's fingers had been so cold when Bob coughed to bring him back into focus. "Yeah, sorry, just...okay, focusing now." Harry shook himself a little. "What you said about Harkness and Jones," he began. "It does explain a few things. Harkness has a protective streak miles long already." Harry leaned his elbows on his knees, slumping forward on the edge of the bed. "Is it serious between them?"

The necromancer shrugged. "Emotional depth is a little more difficult to assess. But the fact remains that it does weigh in where Captain Harkness is coming from in regards to how he wishes us to proceed with Doctor Tanizaki."

"Great," Harry released a puff of resigned air. "Control freak boyfriends make the best kind of micro managers."

"Which is why perhaps you may wish to speak with Mr. Jones directly. There are things he might...well, he may need to make some decisions without the captain's influence."

Harry looked up and saw the troubled expression on the ghost's face from earlier. "What do you mean?"

"This spell we'll need to design to try and communicate with Tanizaki," Bob began. "What do you hope to accomplish?"

The wizard frowned. "To help him come to terms with what happened."

"He's angry, Harry," said Bob, quietly. "Rage is his primary emotion. And how likely do you think it is that his anger stems from his wanting revenge against those responsible for his death?"

Silence slid by as Harry began to piece together Bob's thought process. "Like Christine Graham," he murmured.

Bob nodded. "Yes. Only her murderers were already dead. The creature who killed Tanizaki is also gone. But Mr. Jones is still very much alive."

"If I can get Tanizaki to talk to me," Harry tried, earnestly. "I could ease it."

"Harry."

"Look, he hasn't had anyone help him. He's been trapped in hell in all that time. He needs someone to hear him," the wizard pressed on.

"I'm sure he does," Bob agreed, though the shadow in his eyes remained. "But if this spell does not work and you must exorcise him forcefully…there is the chance he will become trapped on the Other Side. His anger runs deep enough to anchor him there and his rage toward Mr. Jones will only build as he waits."

Despite the heater going full blast in the room, Harry felt a chill run down his back. He saw in Bob the same phantom shudder as the ghost was even more acutely aware of what lay within the black folds of the afterlife. Of the ghosts waiting for those responsible for their demise to eventually join them on the Other Side so that they may finally gain their revenge and tear at their killer's souls for all eternity. It would be a never-ending agony.

"It might not come to that," Harry said, his voice hoarse from exhaustion as well as the dread now heavy in his chest. "Tanizaki's angry, but he's scared, too. He wants to go home. It might not come to that," he weakly repeated in protest.

"But it may," Bob countered. "And Mr. Jones will not live forever."


	8. Chapter 8

Much like the last time, battling psyches with an emotionally troubled, enraged ghost left Harry drained, letting him fall into a sleep worthy of the dead. The next morning it took an alarm clock, a persistently ringing telephone and finally Bob shouting in his ear to wake the wizard up from his exhausted slumber. Harry inadvertently answered the trilling phone by knocking the entire thing to the floor in his confused flail to shut off the buzzing alarm. Groping blindly, he dragged the handle up to his ear by the cord.

"Whayeahello?" he slurred into what he hoped was the mouth end.

"Thank god," sighed a female voice. "Another few minutes and we would have sent the desk manager kicking down your door. I thought you'd died in your sleep."

Harry rubbed at his still exhausted eyes as his brain made a few connections. "Toshiko?"

"It's gone quarter past nine. You were due in at half past eight."

Staring at recently silenced clock, Harry saw it was true. "Dammit, why didn't you wake me?" He directed the question at Bob who remained standing by his bed.

"You hit the sleep button six times," replied the ghost by way of explanation with a shrug.

"I've been trying," Tosh answered at the same time.

"Not you," said Harry. Tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, the wizard pulled himself up to a sitting position and was immediately alerted by his body what hurt and how much. He couldn't help the groan that escaped his throat.

"Are you alright?" asked Tosh, hearing the moan.

"Great for an eighty year old with arthritis," Harry answered. He glanced again at the clock, which informed him how late he was in angry red numbers. "Uhm…sorry. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Trying to shake off the lingering haze of disorientation, the wizard stuck out a foot to feel for his shoes and barely caught himself before falling off the bed. From his place now by the foot of the bed, Bob looked skeptical of Harry's progress. "Better make it twenty," amended Harry.

* * *

"Careful," Bob warned as Harry raced to his luggage to find a shirt while still brushing his teeth. The necromancer drew in a sharp breath he didn't need when Harry's elbow nearly brushed against a set of sigils he'd painstakingly drawn out in the air. "You're about to destroy work that took me all night."

"Wa ish hid?" Harry mumbled before ducking back into the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste.

"It," Bob announced. "Is the spell you'll need for Tanizaki." The ghost took a step back to admire his own invention with a certain amount of pride. "I need to finish off the last portion, though that will have to wait until later. But you have your Shield, the Lure, the Containment, and most importantly, the Clarity," he listed, pointing to a different set of symbols in turn, excitement coloring his words. It had been so long since the necromancer had been able to do a proper spell on his own power, but he still got a secondary thrill from seeing one of his works done by another.

Wiping at his mouth with a towel, Harry rejoined his former tutor to study the spell. Most of the sigils he recognized, but as it almost always was with one of Bob's works, the configurations were unusual, unconventional. "Nice," Harry concluded.

The ghost sighed heavily. "Nice," he repeated. "I bring you an elegant, priceless creation and in all the vocabulary you've collected over thirty years, you pick _nice_ to describe my efforts."

"Really nice," Harry insisted.

"Oh, never mind. I should be used to your philistine nature by now."

"If it makes you feel any better, my brain's busy with what you told me last night." Bob's earlier enthusiasm drained a little at that. For a moment, the two wizards stared at the floating symbols. "We have to tell him. Let him know what might happen if this doesn't work," said Harry, quietly.

"Agreed," Bob replied, looking less than happy. "And what options do you propose to give?"

Moving closer to the spell, Harry walked around it, looking over the middle portion. "You know as well as I do, ghosts can't hurt anyone directly. Not a live person at any rate." Illuminated by the golden glow, the wizard's dark eyes met Bob's pale ones across the necromancer's handiwork. "If I can't get through to Tanizaki, maybe Jones can be the Lure. It'll give them a chance to..." he trailed off. "Talk."

"I don't think a simple sorry from Mr. Jones is going to cut it, Harry."

"No," Harry agreed. "But sometimes it's not just about having someone listen to you. It's about who listens to you. About the right person knowing what they did to you."

Mouth set in a grim line, Bob crossed his own arms, the gesture mimicking Harry's. "Christine Graham gave you a vision violent enough that you stumbled and fell off a ten foot scaffolding," he stated. "When Tanizaki had you in his, you thought you were being strangled, killed. And you are a trained, seasoned wizard who knows better."

The younger wizard stared unblinkingly at nothing in particular before he replied, "Tanizaki can't kill him."

"What do you believe would have happened had you not realized at the last moment it was Tanizaki's death you were reliving and not your own?" Bob inquired, quietly.

Harry didn't reply to that, but raised his eyes again to meet the older wizard's. Both knew the danger involved, but neither wanted to say what they believed to be the better option for Ianto Jones. So instead, Harry broke off their silent staring and turned his attention back to the rest of the spell.

"Let's just focus on this for now," he said, nodding to the floating letters. "If it's as good as you say it is, this could just be the answer. But this bit here-"

"Harry, you need to consider the chance it won't," the ghost interrupted, refusing to let the issue go. "And if you so strongly feel Mr. Jones should confront Tanizaki directly, he'll need proper preparation beforehand if one hopes for the best result."

"Fine," Harry gave in. "We'll go over it with him and if he agrees, you can prep him. Our old lessons together about that stuff worked like a charm for me." Despite the irritated scowl on the wizard's face, there was no sarcasm in his voice. He meant it when he said Bob's teaching had worked well to save him from a mind-induced death at Tanizaki's vision.

"He will no doubt agree," Bob predicted. "It's the captain I'm more concerned about."

"It's not his place to argue, but I'm sure he won't see it that way," Harry agreed with a preemptive frustrated growl. "That's the least of my concern right now. I'm more worried about this." The wizard jabbed a finger toward the end section of the spell. "Shield and Lure, I get. But the Containment and Clarity. That's going to take a lot of energy. Especially the Clarity. Like, no joke energy. It's way more than what I have on reserve."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Bob replied with measured patience. "But from what we've seen, you cannot hope to contain Tanizaki's emotions or help him focus in small strokes. The spell has to be powerful. Charged."

"So do we just pray Cardiff gets hit with a lightening storm I can draw from?" asked Harry, skeptically.

"Not that such storms are scarce in this part of the world, but no," answered Bob. "I was thinking of a more immediate resource Torchwood has at their disposal."

"Which is?"

"What's under their feet."

* * *

Daytime made little difference in regards to the Hub since sunlight didn't filter into it. Nor did the cleansing light of morning make any difference to Bob who needed neither sleep nor rest in order to think clearly. But the necromancer did observe that those in the land of living could undergo a remarkable transformation in the course of a night's passing. For instance, he noted that despite the lack of no doubt proper sleep, Ianto Jones was currently sitting at the conference with the rest of his coworkers, looking remarkably well-groomed.

Bob took in the sharply pressed, lint-free dark suit and perfectly knotted tie. While he couldn't be sure, the ghost wondered if even the white cuffs peering out from underneath the suit sleeves were equal in length. The archivist's appearance rivaled most men twice his age in terms of neatness. The whole attire gave him an near impenetrable armor of efficiency and order.

Ironically, it all made the man look strangely younger in Bob's eyes. He wouldn't say Ianto seemed weak, but the necromancer understood better than anyone that the need to hold up certain formal appearances spoke of a greater vulnerability one was desperate to hide.

Sensing that the archivist was finally noticing his scrutiny of him, Bob turned his attention back to the captain who looked the same no matter what time of the day. And in regards to Harry, the man's mood seemed permanently set at the offense. But to his credit, he listened to the wizard's proposal without interruption. If he had any protests, Owen Harper beat him to it.

"No way," stated the doctor. "You can't mess with the Rift. That's rule number one." He threw that last statement at Jack.

"It's not about 'messing with the Rift,' " said Bob. "This energy that pulsates from the grounds of your establishment is a natural phenomenon. And like all natural energies, it can be harnessed and utilized by a wizard to enhance a spell or one's own magic."

"He soaks it up?" asked Jack. He gave Harry a more clinical look as if he was seeing the wizard in a new slightly new light.

"More like I can channel it and use it," Harry replied. "Like a shot of adrenaline when running. Twice the speed with it running through your blood."

"Are you sure it works the same way?" asked Ianto, unconvinced. "The energy of the Rift isn't exactly a natural earth phenomenon."

"It can attune to Harry's magic, as I have seen before," Bob answered. He gave a wry smile. "How else did my skull travel here?"

"Your skull fell through the Rift," Gwen realized. "Did he send you through on a spell?"

"Not on purpose, I can assure you," said the necromancer. "But error or no, it was a spell and one that connected through the energy of your Rift. And it is a very appropriate power source for the kind of spell we intend to do now."

"Sorry, hang on," Owen interjected. "Since when do we use the Rift like it's a battery? Jack," the doctor defaulted to the one man he knew was more wound up about abusing the tear in time and space than anyone else. "You can't tell me you think this is a good idea."

"The Rift energy also responds to the magic," Tosh put in. "We saw it before. It didn't open it, but when Harry was down in the basement, whatever was done set the readings off with an energy surge. What happens if you cause an actual Rift spike?"

Owen jabbed a finger at the technician with a nod. "Right, see there? Who's to say you your spell doesn't cause the Rift to implode and we end up with a crater where Torchwood Three used to be?"

"Because it'll be controlled this time," Harry defended. "I'm not talking about taking the plunge and doing everything right away. I'll first get familiar with how your Rift works. Get used to its patterns."

"The Rift doesn't have patterns," Gwen stated, joining Owen in disliking the proposed plan.

"What about Tosh's rift predictor program?" asked Ianto.

All eyes shifted to the technician, whose discomfort became obvious. Making solid statements in regards to the Rift was never safe, nor did they ever really pan out.

"I'm still streamlining it," she said, cautiously. "But it does operate on the best fit repeats we've gotten from previous Rift activity." She turned to Harry, her eyes now shining with more curiosity, despite herself. "How would you get accustomed to the energy?"

Happy to have at least a hint of another ally, Harry gave her his most grateful smile. "The spell Bob's made works in four chunks. I can work through the first part to get familiar with using the energy. Sort of like a segmented dress rehearsal. Once I have a feel for it, I can move onto the rest."

"How long will that take?" asked Jack.

"Depends on how good I am," Harry answered with a smart ass glare. Bob held back an exasperated sigh. It wouldn't kill his former pupil to be a little less antagonistic. It wasn't helping already strained matters. And the fact was, convincing Harkness to agree to this portion of their plan was going to comparatively be the easier task in Bob's opinion.

"What Harry meant to say," the ghost said for him. "Is that he will take good precaution to be sure he is comfortable with the Rift to avoid any needless danger."

Jack studied the two wizards for a beat. "I want Tosh to monitor the Rift as you go along," he said to Harry finally. "Any hint of disruptions and you stop immediately."

"Jack!" protested Owen.

Ignoring him, the captain continued. "For however long this takes, she," he pointed to Toshiko. "Is the boss of you. She says stop, you stop. She says go, you go. She says jump, you-"

"Ask how high," Harry finished for him. "I got it."

A smirk quirked Jack's lips. "No, she says jump and you jump as high as you can and await further orders."

For once, Harry gave Jack a genuinely amused smile. "Fine. No problem. I've got a cop friend at home I do that for all the time."

"So should the rest of us pray that this doesn't all go pear shaped then?" Owen asked with a furious scowl.

"We go about business as usual," Jack ordered, firmly. "If this spell causes any additional Rift activity, we might get a lot busier very soon." He turned his eyes back to Harry. "Get going. The sooner you get friendly with the Rift, the better."

"Actually, there's one other thing." The wizard briefly glanced over at Bob who silently prayed Harry could tread some sort of diplomacy. "It regards you, specifically," said Harry, looking at Ianto. "It might be a private matter." He noticed that no one was making the effort to leave the room. "So…maybe you and I can talk alone?" he added as a heavy suggestion.

No one moved. If anything, they looked all the more keen to stay.

"If it regards Ianto, it regards all of us," Gwen said, rather resolute on the matter. The stubbornly protective look she gave the youngest member of the team got a wan smile out of the Welshman, the first real expression to cross his face since the meeting began.

"I'm just saying he might want to talk alone first," Harry replied. "There're a few things he might want to mull over without anyone else's input right away."

"And whose lack of input would he not need?" Jack scowled.

"_He_ is still in the room," Ianto finally interrupted.

Bob noted the chastised expressions on both Jack and Harry's faces and inwardly grinned. "Would you like everyone to stay, Mr. Jones?" he asked the archivist, directly. "The matter concerns you and so it is rightfully your decision."

"Not that I exactly have that much to go on to make a decision," Ianto replied, though his tone toward the ghost was more wry than frustrated.

"You'll find vague preamble can be a theme with Harry," said Bob.

"Okay, I'm still in the room too," the wizard pointed out.

"If maybe I can have a word first in private, please?" Ianto requested to the rest of the team. "Please," he repeated, quietly. This time, pointedly directing his request to Jack.


	9. Chapter 9

When Ianto was fifteen, his father passed away. It had been a sudden, massive heart attack while at his shop. He'd been alone and by the time someone found him nearly 30 minutes later, there had been nothing anyone could do. News of her husband's death had left Ianto's mother distressed beyond coherency, leaving Mrs. Price, their next door neighbor, to tell Ianto when he'd come home from school.

Despite the woman's competent attempt to break the news to him gently, the second Ianto had entered his house, he'd felt a suffocating tension permeating every corner; broadcasting before Mrs. Price had even reached him that something was very, very wrong.

Now, sitting in the conference room, the very same sensation was pressing down on the archivist. The look of apprehension in Harry Dresden's eyes, something that Mrs. Price had at least been able to hide, didn't help ease his anxiety any.

"That was a lot easier than I thought it would be," Harry mentioned, looking toward the door where the rest of the team had exited without much argument after Ianto had requested some privacy.

Ianto wished he could think better of them, but he was all too well aware of everyone's natural prying nature. "If anyone's desperate to know, they could rewind the CCTV footage," he said, pointing toward where he knew the cameras were strategically set up in the conference room.

Harry turned to look up toward the small lens Ianto had indicated. "Really?" the wizard mused, his tone loaded. He shifted in his chair to walk over to it.

Guessing Harry's intention, Bob loudly cleared his throat. "If you could not exacerbate the situation with your tampering," the ghost requested, frostily.

"Right, right. Sorry," Harry acquiesced half-heartedly.

Despite chastising him, Bob knew that Harry only grasping at straws to put off the inevitable just a little longer. The wizard had been adamantly pushing to inform Ianto the full truth of what they were up against, but now that the moment had arrived, it was obvious how much Harry hated delivering bleak news. So like anything Harry hated doing, he did it fast.

Lingering back closer to the walls, Bob carefully watched Ianto's reaction as the wizard went through what it could mean should they fail to be able to ease Tanizaki's ghost to Great Beyond, but rather end up with no choice but to force him out if the spell failed to ease Tanizaki's anger. Harry was attempting to soften the news somewhat, but there wasn't much of a way to cushion the fact that one was looking at a potential afterlife filled with revenge rage.

"The thing is," Harry continued. "The last part of the spell, the Clarity, is designed to help Tanizaki focus so he's not buried under so much emotion. But even with clarification, just me trying to talk to him might not be enough." He caught Bob's wordless stare. "Probably not enough," the wizard admitted. "It'll have to be you. You're the only one left that he's got unfinished business with. And you'll have to make a few decisions about whether or not you're willing to act as components for the Lure and the Clarity."

Ianto frowned. "Decisions? The choice seems fairly clear."

"Yeah, it's not that simple." Harry sighed, feeling like the phrase was becoming a bit of a litany on this case. "There's a few risks involved with doing this."

"Such as?"

"You saw me yesterday, right? The only power a ghost like Tanizaki has is his ability to hit you emotionally and mentally. He can show you a vision realistic enough that it almost tricks you into thinking its actually happening. Not just to a third party, but to you as a stand-in for him. And what he showed me was pretty bad. I've been doing this since I was a teenager and even I had a tough time separating myself from what he was showing me. Chances are it'll be worse for you."

Ianto's features remained expressionless, a feature Bob found half impressive and half worrisome in someone so young. "What happens if you can't separate yourself?" asked the archivist.

"People have died," Bob answered for him. The ghost automatically ran through in his mind how many people he'd seen get lost within the throes of a vision, but didn't feel giving numbers would help. "A few have gone insane." Taking a more measuring look at the Welshman, Bob could now see a faint glimmer of fear behind the calm. It was present, though it was obvious Ianto was fighting it. And to Bob that was a good sign. Fighting meant the younger man was acknowledging the reality of the situation, rather than completely ignoring it as blank stoicism usually indicated. The necromancer in no way wanted to be cruel, but he would not be assisting Ianto in anyway by not being blunt. "There is a chance just you being there when Tanizaki has a clearer mind could help him ease his emotions long enough so that he can move on peacefully. But the fact remains that there is just a good a chance the only thing to ease him would be your death at his hand."

"We won't really know until it's actually happening," Harry added. "It could go either way and it'll depend on Tanizaki mostly. And how well you can keep yourself distanced from what he'll show you. It..." the wizard faltered a little, trying to balance out the sense of hopelessness Bob had just doled out. But he couldn't think of anything and let his unfinished sentence sit.

"So my choices are possibly die now or later with the potential chance of him waiting for me in the afterlife," Ianto listed carefully, nutshelling the variables given to him.

"Like I said, it could go either way," Harry repeated. "You might make it out the other end alive and Tanizaki moved on. That's the best case scenario."

Ianto refrained from telling Harry that not once since he'd worked at Torchwood Three had the best case scenario ever happened to him. He rolled what the wizard had told him in his head again, even as he could faintly hear Harry telling him it was his choice and he could very well choose not to participate all together, that Tanizaki's ghost becoming trapped on the Other Side, waiting for him, wasn't a complete guarantee either. But Ianto knew that most likely wouldn't be the case.

As much chaos as the archivist had seen, he had a general belief that the world operated on a system of checks and balances, no matter how ineffable at times. Phrases like "an eye for an eye" and "what goes around, comes around" spoke much larger truths than people believed. And if he refused to take responsibility for the part he'd played in the doctor's death, it would follow him around for all eternity. If he had to die now in order to balance out the wrong he'd done, then he had to allow it.

There was that. And there was his old fashioned sense of morals that had managed to survive his years at Torchwood. He'd gotten Tanizaki killed. And for that, he owed the man a chance for retribution.

"I'll do it," he answered, interrupting Harry's rambling.

The wizard paused momentarily, his mouth set in a tense line before giving him a nod. "Okay. We'll do it then," he agreed. "I'm going to work with Toshiko on getting familiar with how your Rift energy works. The Shield and Containment portions of the spell will be basically all me and I can work on that with her separately first. Bob," he nodded toward the ghost. "Can help you get ready. You've never done this before and throwing you in the deep end of the pool would be stupid. He'll give you a few lessons."

"Lessons?" Ianto questioned, his eyes flickering up to meet Bob's. The ghost gave him a slight smile.

"It won't duplicate exactly what you'll have with Tanizaki, but it'll at least give you some practice," Harry explained. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for more hardship rather than to cleanse his mind. "Now for the task of telling your boss the plan."

"I'll talk to him," said Ianto, quietly. "He's going to..." _Argue, protest, shout, be stubborn... _"Have some questions. It'd be better if I field those."

The relief from Harry at being spared the task was obvious. "Okay, I'll start from my end then with Toshiko."

* * *

"Can you see from over there?" Toshiko asked Harry, who stood a good six feet away from her and her work station.

"Yup, I've got good eyesight," the wizard called over.

"This is ridiculous," Owen muttered, loudly. He eyed the circle of symbols the wizard had drawn on the floor with chalk and was currently standing in the middle of. The doctor had forgone healthy skepticism for outright mockery.

"It's for your own good," Harry insisted. "I could burn out her computer if I stand right next to it. This'll shield me a little at least."

"Whatever, Gandalf."

"If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that..."

"Owen, leave him alone," Gwen ordered.

Toshiko bit back a sigh and glanced up past the top of her monitor. Despite the sound proof glass of the conference room above her, Tosh was acutely aware that Jack and Ianto's conversation had now reached a much louder volume than when it had begun, shortly after Harry had come downstairs to begin work with her. Bob's skull was sitting on one of the desks, though the ghost was absent. Something that made her a little jumpy. Shaking herself a little, the technician focused back on the task at hand.

"The Rift is quiet right now," she informed. "Usually the energy spikes mean something is coming through it to us. But every once in awhile we'll get a negative spike when something gets taken."

Harry nodded, seeing the moderately flat, dormant green lines that were running through Tosh's computer monitor. "Okay, I'm going to try a simple spell first as a tester." He padded himself down before asking. "Anyone got something metal that you won't be sad to sacrifice? Something really strong."

"I've got this," Gwen offered. From beneath one of the work stations, she pulled out a heavy canister the size of a large thermos. Torchwood had used once to contain a snake-like alien Jack had later identified as something called a Gen. It had been unusually strong and had broken the latch on the canister in trying to escape, rendering the container now useless to them. "It's steel, I think."

"Perfect. Just set it in front of me and back up," Harry instructed. Setting the metal canister by Harry's feet, Gwen took a step back. "Few more steps," the wizard said. "No, really," he pressed when Gwen hesitated.

"Is this going to be dangerous?" the ex-policewoman asked, moving back far enough that she now stood with Owen on the far side of the room.

"Uh...nah," Harry answered with a suspiciously cheery tone in his voice. "But, you know, safety first. Okay, here we go."

Working without his hockey stick, the wizard crouched down from his spot, pressing a hand to the floor and closing his eyes. A few moments of silence slid by.

"Is he going to turn it into a rabbit?" Owen stage whispered to Gwen.

"Shhhh!" Tosh hushed.

"Would the skeptical members of the audience kindly zip it?" Harry requested without opening his eyes.

Owen sighed, but did as he was told.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the hum of the Hub. While nothing obvious was happening, Tosh felt the air in the room shift after awhile. It grew heavier and a little oppressive, like the air in Cardiff before a sudden, heavy rain. Suddenly, the lines on her monitor twitched, growing ever slightly more agitated. At the same time, Harry opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto the canister with a concentrated focus.

"_Delios,_" he intoned.

In the blink of an eye, where the canister stood was now a pile of sparkling dust.

"Oh!" Gwen exclaimed, looking impressed.

Harry flexed the hand that had been pressing against the floor. "Not bad," he assessed, meaning the Rift rather than his own skills. "It's actually kind of a jolt, your Rift energy. Like bottled lightening."

Tosh's fingers flew over her keyboard. "Mild Rift fluctuations. Nothing major."

"Right, okay, time to try a shield experiment," Harry announced.

"Is this one part of the big spell?" Gwen asked.

"A slightly different one," said Harry. "I'm still starting small and working up to it. I don't suppose you guys have a dog or something like that? Or even one of you? The spell won't hurt, I just need something to come at me really quickly."

"We've got Janet," Owen offered.

"Right and if the spell doesn't work we've got a mauled wizard on our hands," Gwen snapped.

"Who's Janet?" asked Harry.

"Never mind," Gwen waved off. "We're not using her."

"How about Myfanwy?" continued Owen.

"Owen, you're not helping," said Gwen, exasperated. "The pterodactyl's even worse."

"You guys have a pterodactyl?" Harry asked, eyebrows going up a good two inches.

"She's sort of our watchdog," replied Tosh, as if that more or less explained Myfanwy's improbable existence.

"Oh...okay," Harry said. "I've got a cat," he informed, randomly. The others looked at him. "He's a big cat," the wizard added. Clearing his throat, Harry went back to work. "Anyway, if you guys have like, maybe a baseball bat or something you can take a swing with. I'll do a shield and you can test it by taking a swing at me. That's safe enough."

"I'll do that," Owen quickly volunteered with a grin.

"I figured," said Harry.

* * *

"Are you fucking insane?" Jack demanded.

It was pretty much what Ianto had predicted. Exactly predicted, in fact, right down to the first words out of Jack's mouth after he'd finished explaining.

"Not yet, at least," was Ianto's attempt at a quip. But the look he got from Jack made him regret he'd uttered the words. "Given the choices, my participating in this is the best option," he explained.

"Based on what?" retorted the captain. He wasn't pacing as he normally did when upset and wired. Instead he stood deadly still, close enough so that even if he had his eyes closed, Ianto would be able to feel the anger rolling off the other man. If this had been last year, Ianto might have been a little scared. "From what you're telling me, those two aren't even entirely sure if Tanizaki's going to end up in this Other Side if they just do a straight exorcism," Jack argued.

"Harry seems fairly certain," said Ianto, mildly.

"He may be more experienced with ghosts, but I think I have more experience with death," scowled Jack.

"Well, he claims to have gone over to the Other Side before," Ianto defended, trying with some ridiculous quixotic ambition to keep his tone light, despite the subject matter. "His entire apartment ended up there, actually. And Bob, as a ghost, most likely exceeds you in terms of experience with death. But I suppose you could argue that-"

Jack roughly grabbed his wrist, forcing Ianto to stop his prattle and look at him. "You know what Suzie said when she came back," he said, locking eyes with the younger man, all frustration now swept underneath what Ianto often considered Jack's commander face. The one that demanded people's attention, lest they suffer the consequences. "You know what Owen said when he came back," he continued. "There is nothing there, Ianto. After you die, there's nothing. No one waiting for you, nothing. It's all darkness."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ianto found it almost funny that someone would be so adamant to convince that the afterlife being a dark vacuum of nothing was a good thing. "We don't know that for certain. Especially now with what they've told us," the archivist reasoned, ignoring the grip on his wrist that was starting to get a little painful with his watch digging into his skin.

"They're telling you to throw yourself into something that's-."

"They didn't tell me to do anything," Ianto interrupted. He tugged at his wrist, which Jack relinquished quickly, as if he hadn't realized he'd been holding it at all. "I'm making a decision."

There was a bitter laugh from Jack. "So that's why Dresden wanted to talk to you alone. He was afraid I'd try and change your mind."

"Which you're doing right now," Ianto pointed out.

"Because it's insane!"

"What would you suggest we do, then?" demanded Ianto, his voice rising to match the older man's. "Exorcise Tanizaki and later on when I die I can let you know which one of us was right?"

"Maybe Dresden can contain him," Jack said. "Bob is somehow tied to his skull. If the same thing can be done to Tanizaki, we can move him out of the Hub to somewhere safe."

"You mean trap him on earth forever?" said Ianto, looking vaguely horrified. "No, we're not doing that. Jack, I got him killed," he pleaded. "I'm not going to ask Harry to damn his immortal soul on top of everything else."

"It's the only plan I can see that doesn't risk anyone's lives."

Ianto shook his head. "It's not an option. We can't ask him to do that."

Now Jack was pacing, moving toward the door of the conference room and back again. "This is insane," he muttered, darkly.

"So you keep saying," Ianto sighed.

"Because it is," Jack insisted. "You're risking your life on vague theories."

A half-smirk lifted the corner of Ianto's mouth. "Isn't that the Torchwood standard of operation?"

Suddenly Jack was in his face again and the archivist was convinced he was going to get another vice-like grip on his arm. But instead Jack's grip on both his forearms was gentler, but no less demanding attention. "This isn't a damn mission," Jack growled. "The world isn't in danger. This is about having to choose between you and one other person."

There was a slight shake at the end of that sentence to emphasize the point. But it was the look in Jack's eyes that killed any further attempts Ianto might have entertained at trying to lighten the situation. It wasn't going to work and more than that, his try at flippancy was upsetting the older man. That was different. Ianto was too used to Jack wanting any heavy situation dispelled with some humor.

"I'm sorry," Ianto apologized, his eyes shifting away from Jack's.

He heard the other man sigh. "We can talk to Dresden. If he can get Tanizaki out of the Hub, it could buy us more time to figure something else out," Jack reasoned.

"That's not what I meant," said Ianto, quietly. "I meant it's not for you to choose between the two of us. I have to. And I've already made the decision."

There was a pregnant pause and everything was so still that even with his hands on him, Ianto couldn't even tell if Jack was breathing. "I could order you not to do it," said Jack finally, his voice inscrutable.

The Welshman looked at him, his own eyes hardening. "Would you really?"

"I could ask you not to do it," Jack said, softly.

Ianto winced. _Oh, that's so much worse.  
_  
"Jack-"

"I'm asking you not to do the right thing."

He could have hated Jack a bit for making all of this a little more difficult. A little more painful. But as it always was when it came to Jack, Ianto knew whatever hardship the man caused, the hardship Jack himself faced in the past and would face years into the future was far greater. After so many years of continuing on while others died, leaving Jack alone and forcing him to say goodbye to those closest to him, could he really hate the captain for trying? Especially after Estelle and so soon after Owen? No. Not really.  
_  
Not ever,_ he realized.

Shifting one arm and twisting it from within Jack's grasp, Ianto curled his own fingers over Jack's arm, feeling the tense muscles underneath. "It's not even that much of me trying to do the right thing," he said with flicker of a smile. So much for leaving levity completely behind. "I'd just rather prefer not to spend an eternity with Dr. Tanizaki. So, consider it more my own cowardice, sir."

Yanked by their joint arms, Ianto found himself pulled forward until he was staring at the conference room door over Jack's shoulder in an embrace.

"Not true," he heard Jack murmur close to his ear.

"Still," Ianto replied, quietly. "It'd be better that it ends now." Better that he die doing this than die later with potentially worse consequences. The hold on him got tighter. "For him. For me."

"You're doing the right thing," Jack said. It wasn't clear if he was assuring him or resentfully accepting the decision that had been made.

Ianto shifted a little in the hug, but snaked his own arm around Jack when the other man took the movement as an indicator to let go. "Will you do the right thing?" he asked. For a moment he could only hear Jack breathing. But then, faintly, Ianto felt Jack nod against his shoulder. "Thank you."

* * *

To Harry's non-surprise, it seemed Owen was enjoying himself.

From somewhere, the doctor had located a cricket bat and was taking wide swings at Harry. About three inches before the bat should have been making contact with the wizard's vulnerable head, it instead smacked into an invisible shield that lit up blue at the contact. At first there was only a simple hum when the bat smashed into the shield. But as Harry drew more and more energy from the Rift, it sounded more like the cricket bat was hitting solid concrete.

"Mild fluctuations again," Tosh announced, eyeing Owen's obvious joy at the experiment with some exasperation. "Do we really need to keep going?"

"Maybe we can try something harder?" Owen suggested. "There's that sword we got last week. It's supposed to be able to slice through diamonds or so Jack says."

While Gwen and Tosh protested, Harry found he wouldn't mind giving it a go. The wizard always felt a rush whenever he tapped into the natural energies of thunderstorms or even flash lightening. But sucking energy from the Rift was leaving him feeling almost giddy with the surging power. It felt like being punch drunk almost.

_"Yes, being inebriated is the ideal state to be in when doing a spell," _Bob's voice droned in his head. _  
_  
It figured that the ghost could annoy him without even being present.

"Okay, let's stop for a minute," said Harry. Once he was sure Owen had heard and wasn't going to take a whack at him, he dropped the shield. Rolling his shoulders, Harry noted that he wasn't even slightly sore, despite the length of time he'd kept the shield up. "Let's do one last spell and then I can move into the main show."

"Which is what?" asked Gwen.

"I'm going to try a transportation spell with the Rift. If anything's an energy drainer, it's that. If I can get from here to somewhere else then I'll have a feel for your Rift down."

"You mean go through the Rift?" Gwen demanded, looking frightened on Harry's behalf.

"No, just use the energy like before," said the wizard. He saw all three of them exchange looks. "What?"

"That might not be safe," said Tosh. "If a negative spike happens during your spell then the Rift could take you."

"It's been calm through everything else," Harry pointed out.

"One thing you'll learn is that the Rift operates on Sod's Law," Owen stated. "Worst possible moment and it'll do something and before you know it, you'll be on some planet where the locals eat your eyes and sell your body to the highest bidder as a blind sex slave."

Harry made a face. "Nice."

"Owen's right, though," Tosh said, firmly. "It's too much of a risk."

"In keeping with the current theme," said a new voice.

The others turned to see Jack and Ianto had joined them from the conference room. "Been behaving?" Jack asked Harry. Despite the levity of the phrase, his tone was serious, unhappy.

"Wizard here wants to take a ride on the Rift," Owen snarked.

"But I've been ordered by Toshiko not to do it on account of it being a risk," Harry replied, giving Owen a pointed look before shooting the technician his best smile. "And like you said, she's the boss of me."

"Everything else alright?" asked Gwen, her gaze going from Ianto to Jack and back again.

"Fine," Ianto answered. "I'm ready to start," he said to Harry.

"Very good," Bob suddenly replied, seemingly popping out of nowhere behind Owen.

"Christ!" the doctor yelped, jumping away. "Do you have to do that?" he demanded.

"Frighten you?" inquired Bob, politely. "One might say it's compulsory, given my current state as a spirit."

Harry wondered if Bob had been spying again and made a mental note to ask the necromancer later. For now, they had other things to deal with. The wizard remembered his own lessons with his former teacher when it came to blocking any unwanted sensations from a ghost and he doubted Bob was about to change the lesson plan much. And while Harry's lessons had been tightly confined to a room designed specifically for those types of things in his uncle's house, the lessons now would be taking place with other people around. They needed to set up a room and prep it appropriately.

"They'll need a space somewhere away from the main area," said Harry. "A room with a door, no windows."

"Does it have to be big?" asked Gwen.

"Enough for both of us to stand inside of it," Bob answered. "The more important features are the door and that it be away from an area with other people."

"We could use one of the vaults on the third level," suggested Ianto. "That's three levels down from here and most of them can fit two people comfortably."

Owen smirked. "And how would you know that, tea boy?"

Ignoring the comment, Ianto turned to Bob. "Would that do?"

The ghost nodded. "Most likely. Harry, you'll need to set up the wards before you return to your task."

"On it," the wizard announced, feeling inside one of his pockets and fingering the chalk he'd need. Gathering up Bob's skull from the desk, he gestured for Ianto to lead the way. "Be back in a minute," he said to Toshiko. "I've got one other thing to try with the Rift. Should be good and safe," he assured her.

Despite herself, Toshiko smiled. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Jack, you should have seen him go," Gwen praised, watching Harry follow Ianto downstairs with Bob in tow. "He turned that broken canister we had into a pile of dust in just a second. It was ama-"

But before the ex-policewoman could finish, she heard the familiar alarm of the cog door peeling open. Turning, she caught a glimpse of Jack's coat as he exited without a reply.


	10. Chapter 10

We are nearing the end, my friends! Thank you to everyone so far who have favorited, story alerted, and reviewed this story. A special thanks, actually, to those who reviewed because reviews are what the plot bunnies eat and grow on.

The recognizable dialogue snippet is from the "Cyberwoman" episode. Dresden Files-ites, I'm using a theory I've used in my past fics in regards to Bob and his "situation." So, yes, it's kind of a fanwank. If the show had lasted a little longer, I could have had some canon to work with!

* * *

Cell 5E seemed to be the best option. It was the last holding area in the far corner of the third level and was the largest one Torchwood Three had available. Luckily, it was currently empty. Ianto hung back by the door and as the two wizards surveyed the area. At Bob's nod, Harry set down the skull on the stone ledge that acted as a bed and pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket to being writing something along the edges of the cell.

"This should be fine," said the ghost. "Once Harry is done treating the room, we can begin."

"What exactly is the room being treated with?" asked Ianto.

"A few dampening wards. It will prevent any unnecessary discomfort for the others," Bob answered as neutrally as possible.

Ianto glanced down as Harry continued to scratch symbols into the floor with some apprehension.

"You have the key for this cell, right?" Harry asked over his shoulder.

"All controls for the doors are on the outside," Ianto said, pointing toward the console on the other side. "You can close the doors manually, but they only open with the access codes."

Harry frowned, looking down at the sigils he'd written across the door's threshold. "Okay, well, I'll just modify this a little then. Should be fine," he half muttered to himself.

As the wizard finished up, Ianto wondered if the dampening wards were there to prevent excess noise from escaping. Such as the sounds of someone screaming. Brusquely, he pushed the worries out of his mind. The fact was, no matter how unpleasant this got, he had to do it. Leaning against the far wall, he waited for Harry to finish.

"Done," Harry announced, after awhile. He shot Bob a wary look. "Uh…do you want to test it?"

"No, it's fine," the necromancer replied, running his eyes over Harry's work. "It'll hold."

With a nod, Harry walked out the cell and slid the glass partition until there was an opening about an inch thick. "Whenever you're through, come back up and I should be ready to test out a part of the spell with you today."

"We're not doing the entire thing tonight?" Ianto asked, frowning.

Harry shook his head. "Trust me. You're gonna need a break after this and get some sleep before we do the real thing."

The archivist didn't point out it was only 11am. But Harry's insistence that he wouldn't be in a state to actually see Tanizaki today didn't help his earlier concerns over how involved this lesson would be.

Apparently sensing the anxiety, Harry gave him an encouraging smile. "You're in good hands," he assured. "Bob's a great teacher. Everything I know, he taught me."

"But please don't let that discourage you," the ghost replied, sardonically.

Despite the acerbic words, Ianto caught the grins exchanged by the two wizards and got the feeling he was seeing familiar banter.

Giving a last wave, Harry turned to go. "Good luck," he called.

* * *

When Harry returned to the main area, he noticed both Jack and Gwen were missing.

"Gwen's gone to find him," said Toshiko, looking almost apologetic for Jack's disappearance. "You said you had one more thing you wanted to try?"

"A transportation spell," Harry replied. "I'm going to send something, not go myself," he added before anyone could protest. "Transportation spells are draining. It's worse if you travel yourself, but even sending stuff can be hard. If I can do one without breaking a sweat, then I'll have the Rift energy figured."

"Why don't you do a spell that's related to the one you'll be doing later?" Owen questioned. "I mean, it's a time waster, isn't it? Just doing random spells?"

Harry grinned. "Owen, you sound almost interested."

The physician gave a disparaging snort, crossing his arms in defiance. "Just pointing out the bloody obvious," he stated.

"Well, to answer your question, I am doing parts of the spell I'll be doing later. Essentially all spells derive from one another and all the components of what I'll need to do with Tanizaki and Ianto are variations of a shielding, a transportation, a transmutation-"  
"Yeah, yeah, got it," Owen interrupted. "Medical school was enough learning for me."

Looking to Tosh, Harry gestured to Owen with an exaggerated sigh. "He just doesn't appreciate what's in front of him."

"Tell me about it," Tosh muttered under her breath.

* * *

"You're nervous," Bob guessed.

"I feel as if I should be," Ianto admitted. He was sitting now on the stone bed, feeling a little awkward as to what he should be doing.

"An important thing to remember is that technically a ghost cannot harm you physically," said Bob. "As spirits, the only powers are our abilities at visuals and intrusion upon your emotions and sensations."

"Is that all?" Ianto half-heartedly laughed. He wasn't sure if that was meant to be comforting. A physical attack, in his opinion, was vastly easier to defend against.

Bob gave him a kindly smile at the attempt at humor. "A vision is comparatively easier to withstand. You must constantly remind yourself from the start that what you are seeing is not real. Most people, once they are aware, find this task relatively simple."

"It's the emotions and sensations that are harder, then?"

The ghost nodded. "If he does as he did with Harry, the sort of emotions that Tanizaki will seep into you will be mainly anger, possibly fear. Almost everyone finds it difficult at first to be able to differentiate their own emotions from the ones the spirit throws upon you. That is usually the first step that leads to an erosion of the other mental defenses. Once you become tied so deeply with the spirit's emotions, you begin to succumb to the vision as well. This is usually how fatalities occur."

"Harry said even he had problems separating himself from the emotions as well as the vision," Ianto recalled.

Despite the polite smile, a grim look settled on the ghost's face. "As we discussed," he said, softly. "It may be that Dr. Tanizaki is only looking to avenge his own death. In which case-"

"Yes, I've already resigned to that," the archivist interrupted. He took a sharp breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the stone bed. Even though he'd mentally told himself that it was the most likely conclusion to this, the instinctive, self-preservation part of him railed against him to not take it lying down.

"But in case he isn't," Bob's voice broke into his thoughts, "I can prepare you to at least try and withstand the emotional attack as best you can."

Ianto nodded, summoning up the oft used skill to just concentrate on the task at hand, instead of considering specific future possibilities and ramifications. He'd done it well enough to get Lisa into Torchwood Three, he did it often enough at lower levels during most regular Torchwood missions. He could do it for this.

"How does one defend oneself?" he asked.

Bob's smile shifted a little into something that vaguely reminded Ianto of how his father used to look at him from time to time when he'd finally gotten old enough to help him at his shop. A kind of fondness that was laced with expectations.

"Ironically, the trick to it is simple enough to explain," said Bob. "No matter how closely tied you feel to the emotions being put upon you, you can work to separate yourself by remembering that you are unique."

Ianto blinked. "Um…right."

"Bear with the self-help allusions," Bob requested, holding up a pale hand. "It's a simplistic concept, but the key to withstanding such an attack is to fully remember who you are. To know that all your experiences, thoughts, feelings are in a unique combination that makes you Ianto Jones. It sets you aside from all others. This gives you a cornerstone to work from as you try and keep yourself mentally detached from whatever Tanizaki gives you."

The archivist sat silently, processing it over. "How exactly do I remind myself of who I am?" he asked finally, feeling it was a somewhat foolish question. Still it wasn't as if he walked around having to remind himself of who he was on a daily basis.

"Think of memories," the ghost advised. "Of people you care about. Who care about you. Things you know about yourself that you have never shared with anyone else. These things will ground you when you start to mistake Tanizaki's emotions for your own."  
_  
Unique memories and things I've never shared with anyone else,_ Ianto listed. Those he had in abundance.

"Does it make sense to you?" inquired Bob.

Ianto slowly nodded. "I believe so."

"Care to test it?"

"Might as well," he replied with a small smile that Bob returned. The archivist rose to his feet and absently brushed at his trousers for unseen dust. Looking to Bob, he saw the ghost was studying him again with a disconcertingly unblinking gaze.

"Before Harry met Dr. Tanizaki, the captain told us about the reason why you brought him here," began the necromancer, carefully. "A friend of yours was badly injured."

Ianto knew logically that Jack would have filled them in on the specifics of what had happened. But it still gave him an odd jolt to have the memory be brought up by someone other than Jack. Everyone else on the team, even Owen, had never spoken to him about it unless he referenced it first. Which he never did, apart from that one time with Owen. Lisa and everything surrounding her had been shoved into a mental file box after he'd re-examined everything once during his suspension from duty for that one month.

"I made a horrible mistake," he said, quietly. "I was in love with her and I wasn't able to let go."

"Hm." It seemed while Bob was staring at him, the spirit was momentarily seeing something else. "We are all capable of making horrible mistakes when those closest to us are taken," the ghost murmured. "It is…a very terrible thing. To suffer such a loss." When the pale eyes refocused, there was a look of understanding in them. But of a very different kind than Ianto had seen in Gwen and Tosh and even later, Jack. Only he wasn't sure how to describe it exactly.

"Perversely, Mr. Jones," said Bob, going back to the task at hand. "This makes our lesson together a little more practical in strengthening your defenses. If you'll step this way," he ordered before Ianto could question what he'd just said. "While I cannot give you a vision, I will be able to push a set of sensations onto you. So remember what we've discussed."

The archivist nodded mutely, squaring his shoulders.

At first nothing happened, but then it hit like a tidal wave.

Staggering backwards, Ianto threw out an arm to grasp at the rough edges of the cell to keep from falling flat on his back. But even then it was a slow, painful decent onto the cold floor. All Ianto could feel was despair and grief. They sank into him with such force that they jostled the old feelings of regret that had plagued him weeks after Lisa had died in their basement. The loss of her, the loss of his last shred of hope that everything would be alright, hit him again as hard and as fresh as if it had been yesterday.

_"Ianto, it's me. You wouldn't shoot me. I did this for you."  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Lisa…."_

All he wanted was to die along side her again. He wanted Jack to make good on his threat and shoot him for failing. God, he wanted to die. There was nothing left because she was gone and that meant the world stopped mattering. So everything could stop now. None of it mattered…

"Mr. Jones!"

Abruptly, the misery crushing him was gone. Ianto didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he found himself trying hard to open them. When he finally managed it, he saw Bob's concerned face staring down at him.

"Are you alright?" asked the ghost.

Ianto tried to bring himself up to a sitting position and nearly gasped as he strained to get his limbs to obey. By the time he was leaning against the stone bed, still sitting on the floor, he was shaking. "God…that…"

"Take a few minutes. Breathe," Bob instructed.

"I couldn't even begin to tell…it felt like how it was a year go," Ianto choked. "Her dying and how everything…"

"Those emotions were not yours. You felt the grief and translated it as your own." The necromancer eyed him, looking uncertain. "I thought perhaps the lesson would be more beneficial to strengthening your defenses, due to certain similarities. But I may have misjudged how quickly to expose you to them."

As Ianto got his breathing to regulate, he pulled himself up to the stone bed and sat down heavily next to the decorated skull. "I didn't realize it would be like that," he admitted.

"It won't be exactly like this with Tanizaki," Bob said. Now that he seemed fairly confident Ianto wasn't going to pass out, he hedged away from the Welshman as far as the cell allowed. "Like humans, ghosts also have individuality. What he shows you might affect you less, possibly."

Ianto closed his eyes to take a last breath. Even though the despair from earlier had dissipated, he could still feel the phantom echoes of it. Opening his eyes, he looked over toward the pale figure. "Those were your emotions. That's what you feel?"

Bob shifted, looking uncomfortable. "It's…the nature of my curse."

"You feel that way? All the time?"

The ghost shook his head. "No, not all the time," he answered, stiffly. "One learns to control it. My soul being bound to my skull...unlike Tanizaki, I did not choose to remain here. It was re-enforced and that...complicated things."

Suddenly, it came to Ianto the kind of understanding that had glimmered in Bob's eyes earlier. It was the understanding of someone who knew what it felt like to have once believed that they would never be parted from the one they loved most. To have believed against all logic that somehow, she would always be there with you forever. It made the loss almost impossible to bear.

From the corner, the necromancer sighed. "I apologize. I didn't mean to overwhelm you." It made sense now why the dampening wards had gone up.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I agreed to it," Ianto replied. "Really," he added, now feeling a desire to reassure the ghost somehow. Slowly, he got back to his feet. "I'd like to try it again."

Bob looked apprehensive. "Are you sure?"

Ianto nodded. "I have to get this right."

* * *

Considering that Jack had left only ten minutes before her and hadn't taken the SUV, it took Gwen close to an hour and three rooftops before she finally located him. The building manager in charge of her fourth guess had been a right nuisance after she'd shown him her Torchwood identification to gain access. He hadn't seen a tall gentleman in a wool coat, but if Torchwood was involved, should he evacuate the building? Were lives at stake? Gwen fielded the questions as quickly as possible as he dogged her the first 12 flights of the 30 story building before just giving her the key to let herself through. The lift was out of order. Of bloody course. By the time she reached the top, she was winded and more annoyed at Jack than concerned when she spotted him.

"How'd you manage to get in here without the building manager?" she demanded, breathlessly. That wasn't the first question she'd been planning on asking.

"Let myself in," Jack answered her, without turning around.

Gwen's eyes fell to the strip of brown leather that peeked out from underneath Jack's cuff and wished not for the first time that somehow that tool of his could be duplicated. He kept his back to her as she approached to stand next to him. The view from this height wasn't quite as impressive as some of Jack's other favorite places Gwen had scouted out first. Normally he liked where he could look down upon crowds, but this particular building was in a fairly quiet neighborhood.

"Jack, what're you doing?" she asked.

"Can't you tell?"

"I mean, what're you doing here?" she specified. When he didn't answer, she sighed. "I take it Ianto lied then when he said everything was fine?"

"It depends on your definition," Jack replied, coldly. "He and Dresden have a set plan. So that's fine. The plan will probably get him killed. That's less fine."

Gwen gave him a horrified look. "What're you talking about?"

In short sentences, he explained it to her. Going over the possibilities should Tanizaki be exorcised without proper closure, of the kind of afterlife that might wait for Ianto. Gwen stared out toward the grey clouds of Cardiff for a few moments after Jack finished.

"Oh," she said finally, at a slight loss. "It's his decision," she added with a bit more resolve.

For the first time since she'd joined him, Jack turned to look at her, his face stony. "It's funny how whenever I make decisions you fight me tooth and nail. Ianto's set to get himself killed and you're fine to just roll over and let it happen."

Gwen ignored the caustic tone. "Because he's right," she stated, firmly. "Of all the options this is his best chance for everyone in the long run."

"I'm so sick of people deciding this on scales!" Jack exploded. "The fact is that there's the chance, the very slightest chance that Dresden's wrong. Which means if Ianto dies tomorrow it's all for nothing. Why doesn't that matter to anyone?"

"Of course it does," Gwen said, quickly. "But the chance of Harry being wrong is-"

"But there's a _chance_," stressed Jack. "Does it matter how small it is? If there's a chance he doesn't have to do this, why can't that count for anything? The only thing that could be waiting for any of us out there might be nothing but the dark. Like Suzie and Owen said."

"Us, not you," said Gwen, her voice quiet. For a minute Jack looked like she'd slapped him and she bit her tongue to keep from apologizing immediately. "You don't have to deal with what's on the other side of…all this," she gestured with her arm. "Maybe you will one day. I hope you do. But right now you don't."

"What's your point?" he demanded angrily.

Gwen heaved a breath. "My point is that we're not like you. Ianto's not like you. He has to consider everything in scales and percentages, because if he's wrong he can't take it back and start again. He has to think about death being forever for him."

"You think I don't know that?" snapped Jack.

"No, I don't think you do," replied Gwen. "Not really. You know we'll die one day, but I think you always believe we can somehow avoid it if we try hard enough. That we should try to avoid it no matter what."

Jack stared at her for moment before turning his gaze back out to the horizon, shaking his head. "You're wrong," he stated. But Gwen could hear the almost imperceptible waver in his voice and knew she'd hit a mark.

Even before Jack had disappeared shortly after Abbadon, Gwen had known the kind of role she played at Torchwood. Or more accurately, the kind of role she played in Jack's life. She would always be the one pushing him, prodding him and questioning him. And maybe there would be times when her badgering was unnecessary. But it seemed so important to lash out and break the rigid mindset Jack got himself into sometimes. Of never letting him settle into a cold, inflexible pattern.

But it had only come to Gwen recently, shortly after her case with Jonah Bevin and the discovery of Flat Holms, that Jack might need someone to constantly support him; that there had to be someone who would be the flip side to her, who would stand by him no matter what. She would keep him on his toes, but even Jack needed something, someone who was constant and unwavering.

Despite her try to shake Jack into accepting fully that what was happening tomorrow was the right choice, Gwen considered what he might be losing should Ianto actually die.

Tentatively, Gwen reached out, putting a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I know how much…" she hesitated. "I know how hard this is," she amended.

"Catching us in the hothouse makes you the expert, huh?" Jack said cynically, refusing to go along with her revised statement.

"No, but I know enough," she replied, keeping her voice level. "Whatever you might joke about or flirt around or ignore or…whichever you find easiest to do and Ianto lets you, I know he's your friend at least."

_Friend was a nice all encompassing word, _Gwen decided.

"Right?" she pressed. Jack gave a tight nod. "So be his friend. How you feel about his decision, how you feel in general right now can't matter. You need to support his choice."

The bitterness on Jack's face lingered, flaring up in his eyes as he looked at her again. "You're telling me to ignore my feelings?" he asked. His smile might have been wry if he didn't look so resentful. "That's a 180 for Gwen Cooper."

"Williams," she corrected, flatly. "And I'm telling you not to waste the time standing on roofs brooding when Ianto could use your help. If things go wrong tomorrow you'll regret it because you won't be able to make it up to him. Ever."

* * *

It was obvious to Bob that unlike Harry, Ianto had little natural coping abilities when it came to elements of the supernatural. The ghost had taught Harry this same defense lesson when Harry had only been 13 by the orders of Morningway. And while it hadn't been exactly easy, his pupil had an innate talent that went hand in hand with his magical abilities.

But while Ianto lacked instinct, he surpassed Harry in his abilities to focus, which helped a great deal. As they continued to work, Bob considered how far Harry might truly go if he had maybe just half of the concentration skills as the Welshman. He also had rather impressive stamina against the mental onslaught, though the ghost wondered if that was a natural skill or something that had come about due to harsh experiences.

"We should stop," Bob stated. They'd been at it for a little over two hours and he couldn't have Ianto so drained the man would be unable to make it back up the stairs.

Despite looking ready to fall over, Ianto remained stubborn. "I haven't gotten it completely right yet," he argued.

"Continuing would be counter productive," said Bob. "You're close, however. And that will have to be good enough."

"But-"

"Mr. Jones, all of this would be useless if you are too tired tomorrow to even stand," Bob cut in, sternly. "Raise your arm in front of you," he ordered.

Ianto did so and saw his hand was noticeably shaking. "Um…"

"My point exactly. Your lessons are done."

Sighing, Ianto admitted defeat. "Alright. Thank you," he added sincerely.

Bob gave a brief nod. "Perhaps you should sit down for a moment before going back up. Only take care not to fall asleep. I can't move past this level to alert anyone to come get you," he advised with a slight smile.

"How far can you move?" asked Ianto, sitting down beside the skull.

"A few feet."

Ianto studied the skull by his side. He moved to pick it up, but looked at the ghost first for permission, which Bob found oddly gratifying. "Feel free."

"It's heavy," Ianto observed, sounding a little surprised.

"Cursed objects tend to be," said Bob. "Sins weigh us down metaphorically and literally." He meant it is a kind of joke, but realized after he'd said it that maybe that was a little too morbid. Harry had often told him his humor tended to fall a little to the right of 'damn depressing.'

But a smile curved across Ianto's face as he held the skull in his hands. "When I was little, my dad used to tell me that he could always tell whenever I'd done anything wrong by feeling how heavy I was when he picked me up."

"A rather odd thing to tell your child, isn't it?"

"He said that so whenever I did do anything wrong, I'd run away from him. That way he always knew if I'd been up to something."

Bob chuckled. "Very clever."

They waited in companionable silence a little longer before Ianto said, "Harry said that it's mainly the souls of those who'd died violently who linger."

"That's correct," Bob nodded.

"Doesn't a soul stay for any other reason?"

Looking at Ianto's questioning face, Bob recognized the same question he'd asked…rather demanded to himself all those centuries ago when he'd been alive. "You mean why doesn't a loved one stay?" he asked gently.

Ianto looked away, a slight expression of guilt running by his features, which the ghost couldn't quite understand. "I suppose. Yes."

"It mainly depends upon a very strong emotion," Bob answered. "Fear if it's a violent death. But if it's love for another person…" he considered his words. "Usually the soul in question loves enough to not linger and cause any additional pain to those they leave behind. It's a mercy in most ways."

Of course, Bob himself hadn't seen it as that. He'd spent the first several days after Winifred's death, trying to find her in the woods where she'd died, growing more and more bitter and angry when it had become obvious she had moved on.

Still holding the skull in his hands, Ianto nodded thoughtfully, staring at the carved bone. "That makes sense," he said. "I would do that," he added.

* * *

"Three for three," Harry noted proudly when Owen returned to the main Hub, carrying the three basketballs he'd transported to the tourist's office.

"That last one landed outside," said Owen. "Nearly beaned a kid in the head."

"Must've over shot it," the wizard mused.

"The energy readings on this one's higher," Tosh stated, running a scanner over the third basketball Owen deposited by her workstation. "Rift activity spiked the highest on the third one too."

"The energy's sort of…saturating into my system," Harry explained. He actually felt a little like he'd downed about five cups of coffee in a row. Even though he couldn't test it, he was fairly certain he would be able to transport himself halfway across Wales and not even strain himself. It'd be great if he could somehow bottle the Rift energy and take it with him somehow.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him and the wizard turned to see Ianto rejoining them with Bob trailing next to him.

"Christ, Ianto," Owen observed. "You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks, Owen," replied Ianto dryly. "Always happy to get an expert's opinion." He gave a dismissive wave when it looked like the doctor was actually going to try and examine him, however.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked at the same time Tosh asked, "What happened?"

"You could learn some work ethic from Mr. Jones," replied Bob. "We went over everything as much as we could. He's as prepared as he can be, given the circumstances."

"You wanted to test something with me before tomorrow?" Ianto asked Harry as he sank into a seat by Gwen's desk.

Eyeing the younger man, Harry looked dubious. "Yeah…but I think maybe this should be it for you today. I'll just go over how things are going to work tomorrow when we do the actual spell. After that, you should just go home and get some rest."

"But it's only mid day," Ianto protested.

Owen rolled his eyes. "Only you'd complain about getting a half day."

"It's really better if you're alert tomorrow," Harry advised. "You might not think you will, but you'll probably drop off pretty much as soon as you hit the bed."

"I'll shock you all and agree with the wizard," said Owen. "Really. As the only one here actually authorized to order you: go home."

"That's not you, that's Jack," Ianto stated.

"And after Jack, it's Gwen," Tosh added.

"Well, neither of them are here, are they?" Owen retorted.

"I'd go with Harry's suggestion," Bob finally cut in before they went for another round. "It'll take us both a little while to go over everything and it'll be to your benefit to have an overview."

* * *

The soft alarms above the cog door chimed as Jack and Gwen walked through.

"Have a good stroll?" Owen called from his work station.

"Where is everyone?" asked Gwen, taking off her jacket.

"In the conference room. Dresden and his ghost are explaining everything to Tosh and Ianto," Owen answered. He'd been left to monitor the Rift as well as do their regular job by following up on an Alien Enthusiast's website that was a little too accurate for comfort. Owen looked up from the site's essay on what sounded suspiciously like a Weevil to see Jack shooting indecisive glances toward the conference area.

"When they're done," Owen called over to Jack. "Could you please exercise your authority and send Ianto home?"

Jack frowned. "Why?"

"Whatever training or something they did today tired him out and Dresden reckons he needs some sleep before tomorrow."

"It's only mid day," Gwen noted.

"Why's everyone so preoccupied with the time?" Owen snarked. "Have him take a nap here then if you're all so obsessed with employees being in until 5."

"No, I'll drive him home," said Jack, already putting back on the coat he'd just taken off.

"Cheers," said Owen, going back to the essay. He glanced back toward Jack, who was patiently waiting. "Dresden said he needed to rest."

"I got it," Jack replied.

"As in real people's version of rest. Not the Harkness version of rest," Owen warned.

"_I got it,_" said Jack irritably.

Owen shrugged, turning back to his monitor. "Just making sure."


	11. Chapter 11

They sat in the car just outside of the tourist center.

The early morning skies of Cardiff were unseasonably bright. Usually at this hour, it was hard to tell where the gray skies ended and the waters of the Bay began. But despite the optimistic light, Ianto knew that by tonight it would most likely be frigid and possibly storming.

It was a strange experience having Jack come to pick him up at his apartment to take him to the Hub. Ianto had planned on driving in on his own as usual until he'd noticed the mammoth black SUV sitting patiently outside his flat at 6am. He supposed maybe Jack wanted to talk since that hadn't happened yesterday when the captain had driven him home. The last thing Ianto recalled with clarity was buckling his seatbelt. After that, he'd woken up to find it was the next day and he was in his flat, alone. Apparently, Harry's estimation that he'd fall asleep the minute he hit his bed had been overly generous.

But apart from a brief, "Morning" from Jack, the car ride over this morning had been quiet. And now they were sitting in silence, staring at the Bay. Ianto glanced at the SUV's clock. It was only half past six. It'd be another 30 minutes before everyone else arrived. He cleared his throat.

"If we're going to just sit around, we could always do it inside with some coffee," Ianto suggested.

"Let's just wait a minute," said Jack, keeping his gaze on the waters. "We have some time."

"Okay." Now that he was aware they were just idling time, Ianto started to fidget. "I'm sorry about yesterday," he said, breaking the silence. "If you wanted to talk, I mean." Despite what anyone else thought, he knew however today might end, Jack most definitely would not have wanted a last shag before facing the music. Because it would be just that: a last shag. And it was tempting fate way too much.

"You know," began Jack, brushing aside Ianto's apology. "We never really talked much about what happened last year with Tanizaki. And with Lisa. I mean, really go over it."

Ianto blinked. He wasn't positive, but this might have been the first time Jack referred to Lisa by name. The older man had always proclaimed he'd never met the real woman. Just the thing she'd become and that didn't count. "Did we need to?" he asked. They had talked a little. Mainly it had been a lot of broken apologies from him and a lot of stern orders from Jack. But what really was there to discuss? He'd done something worthy of an execution and Jack had seen fit not to kill him.

"I feel like I should have," Jack sighed. "It was my responsibility to."

"Jack, you could have just given me the termination package, but you gave me a choice instead. You didn't owe me anything more than that. Not even that, really."

A grim look settled on the older man's face as he continued to stare out. "I was glad when you decided not to be retconned. But not because I was being generous. Or at least, that wasn't the main reason." He sat back in his seat, turning to finally look over at Ianto. "I was angry with you. You'd lied your way around for months and endangered the team. When you decided to stay, a part of me was glad because I knew how much it would hurt you having to serve and clean up after the people you nearly got killed."

Swallowing, Ianto looked away, adopting the position Jack had a minute ago. "I chose to stay for Lisa," he confessed. "I couldn't just erase her from my memories…even if that would have been easier."

Jack nodded. "I'd figured. I'm not sorry for what had to happen. But…you made your decisions because you loved her. And I'm sorry that I made it seem like that didn't count for anything."

If there was one thing Ianto remembered with great clarity during that awful month's suspension, it was the sense of urgency to recover. Now that Jack had extended to him a second chance, he couldn't waste it by remaining immersed in his own misery, as tempting as that was. He'd owed it to Jack to pull himself out and the feeling of obligation had been somewhat relieving. He was always very good when it came to rote obedience.

"You let me stay," Ianto pointed out, quietly as if that exempted Jack from everything else.

"Because I kind of hated you at the time and I wanted to see you suffer a little," Jack replied, straightforwardly. "Thing is, it's different now. However any of it all started with you lying or me being cruel about it, I don't feel the same way as I did before."

Despite his earlier candidness, now Jack looked a little awkward as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat and stared contemplatively at the steering wheel. "When I look back over everything and I think of you, trying to protect her…save her…I want to help you," he said, slowly. "Because I don't want to see you going through it alone or being alone." Abruptly breaking off his stare of the steering wheel, he looked up and met Ianto's gaze. "I guess my point is…I don't hate you."

A wry expression slowly shifted its way across Ianto's face. "I'd figured," he replied, repeating Jack's earlier words.

"I just wanted you to know that."

"Thank you."

They sat a little longer. When the digital clock on the SUV shifted to 6:55am, Jack popped the locks. Pausing a moment in opening his door, Ianto turned back around. "Jack." He gave the other man a soft smile. "I don't hate you too."

* * *

Breaking with tradition, Harry arrived on time.

Despite the complexity of the spell he'd be doing, Harry brought along nothing other than Bob and his hockey stick.

"I suppose this would be pointless?" Tosh ventured, holding out a small ear piece toward Harry.

The wizard eyed the tiny piece of technology that was about the size of a thumbtack and probably cost more than his apartment. "Only in the sense that I'll probably break it the instant it makes contact with me," he replied.

"Right then." Tosh re-pocketed the ear piece. "I used the Rift readings I took yesterday from Harry's tests and did a probability sweep with a magnification of 5 miles in all directions," she informed Jack, tracing a circle on her screen where a map of the area around the Hub was up. "Gwen and Owen are stationed in the appropriate target areas should the Rift act up and throw out anything…or try and take anything," she added, indicating their positions.

Jack gave a nod and hit the call button by Tosh's station. "Gwen, Owen. You ready?"

"Yeah," Owen's voice filtered through the speakers.

"Yes," Gwen responded. "See you all in a bit," she stated with optimism. It was a bit strained, but she'd tried.

Harry set Bob's skull next to Tosh's workstation. As they'd discussed, to ensure the spell's maximum success, they had to weed out as many unnecessary presences as possible. Only Harry and Ianto would be making their way down to the basement. "Bob designed the spell so if you get any odd readings, let him know and he'll be able to tell you what stage we're at," he said to Tosh and Jack. Seeing their nods, Harry took a firmer grip of his staff and turned to Ianto. "Ready?"

* * *

The room where Tanizaki had died was now partially decorated in chalk-drawn sigils. About an inch in all around the perimeter was a drawn circle, intermittently broken up by a symbol. Inside that circle, was a much smaller one made of nothing but sigils, about seven feet in diameter. Wordlessly, Harry gestured toward it. Taking a deep breath, Ianto walked inside.

The atmosphere in the room was strangely dry. Usually, everywhere in the basement felt damp and moist, thanks to the water tower pipes running through the walls that leaked and dripped. But everything now felt desiccate and silent as the grave. Ianto couldn't help the violent flinch when a hand landed on his shoulder from behind.

"Just relax," he heard Harry instruct. "Shield part is done, now's the Lure. It'll take me a few minutes to get to the Clarity so Tanizaki might be more disoriented. But just try to hold on. The Clarity part will work and he'll be more lucid."

Ianto gave a stiff nod and tried to loosen his shoulders as he closed his eyes. His hands, however, remained in bunched fists and his fingers nearly ached with the pressure. Slowly, he ordered his fingers to uncurl when he realized that there was something in his left one.

Eyes flying open, Ianto nearly stumbled backwards when he realized he was holding a hand. Lisa's hand.  
_  
"My god! It's not possible! One of them survived!" _

Across from where Lisa lay was Dr. Tanizaki. The scientist's face was animated, interest and wonder seeped into his features as he studied the prone woman. Ianto abruptly released Lisa's hand and took a step back. This wasn't real. This was Tanizaki's memory.

_"She's the only one left. Across the world." _

The room surrounding them now was just as Ianto remembered it with the ventilator set up and the small side table where he'd put a framed photo of him and Lisa.

_"I never thought I'd get my chance to study, to work with anything like this!"_

Listening to Tanizaki ramble next to him, Ianto felt a phantom urge to correct him sharply that it was 'anyone' not 'anything' like before. But instead he leaned forward, wanting to touch the scientist's arm, trying to ignore Lisa below him because he knew she couldn't be real.

"Doctor?" he said.  
_  
"You found her?"  
_  
"Doctor, can you hear me?"  
_  
"Do you know the percentages?"  
_  
"Doctor, this isn't real," Ianto stated.  
_  
"Some elements have been augmented."_

Ianto felt a large surge to look down at Lisa. To really see her and calculate with his own eyes how much of her was human and how much of her was not. But that wasn't him that was Tanizaki who continued to speak, seemingly ignoring the fact that Ianto wasn't replying as before.

_"What is your name?" _

"Ianto Jones," Ianto shouted over Lisa's answer.

Reaching out this time, he moved to grab Tanizaki's shoulder and was surprised when his hand actually made contact. His fingers scraped wool that felt so real as he shook Tanizaki to look up at him. The scientist jolted as Ianto pushed and pulled, his bespectacled confused as he finally looked up at the younger man.

"W…what is your name?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Ianto Jones," Ianto repeated, quietly.

Tanizaki frowned, blinking sluggishly.

"What is your name?" he asked again.

"Ianto Jones."

"What…" Tanizaki faltered, as if trying to recall something he'd forgotten. "What…"

"Ianto Jones," Ianto pressed.

For a moment, Tanizaki stared, his dark eyes blank. And then something flickered from behind his glasses, a memory clicking in.

"Your friend, Mr. Jones," Tanizaki half-whispered before he vanished from beneath Ianto's fingers.

"Wait!" Ianto called, unconsciously taking a step forward before his shins connected with the conversion unit. Instinctively, he put out his arms to steady himself and his hands fell on the now empty bed. "What?"

"Ianto Jones," a voice rasped from behind him.

Turning, Ianto saw the mangled face of Dr. Tanizaki as he'd seen him last. His one good eye glittered maliciously, the remains of his lips pulled back in a hateful sneer. Despite being smaller than the Welshman, Tanizaki lashed out with an impossible strong hand, gripping Ianto's neck in a choke hold that was all to reminiscent of Lisa.

Ianto's mind shouted at him that it wasn't real. The hand on his neck, the force that was pushing him backwards to fall against the conversion unit…the conversion unit itself. None of them were real. But logic started to buckle under the waves of utter hatred and rage that slammed into him.

"Ianto Jones," Tanizaki repeated, his voice half-electronic, but somehow brimming with rage nonetheless. "You must be prepared not to survive."

Gasping, Ianto struggled to loosen to the hold on his neck. "Wait…"

"Ianto Jones. Let you go? Let you go?" Tanizaki demanded, squeezing and pushing.

The anger pouring into Ianto jostled the guilt and regret from a year ago, reopening the wounds. Tanizaki's rage mixed with his own self-hatred for what he had done. For the deaths he'd caused. Suddenly, he wanted to stop his struggling and let Tanizaki just kill him. Because he didn't deserve any better.

"I'm sorry," Ianto choked out as the doctor pushed him harder onto the conversion bed. The steel restraints clamped across Ianto's ankles. "I'm sorry."

Tanizaki's twisted face split into a cruel smile. "Take it slowly. This way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ianto repeated, struggling to get the words out as the hand that supposedly wasn't real cut off his air supply. Above him he could hear the whirls of the conversion tools, scissoring and sharpening in preparation. "Please…"

The grip on his throat loosened a fraction, but the destroyed face of the doctor remained grinning horribly as he gazed down at Ianto. "Save what you love?" he asked, twisting his words from a year ago. "I can save what you love," he hissed. "The emotion inhibitor chip. That is the key. I will remove it in degrees and save what you love."

Despite the overwhelming fear, Ianto ceased his struggles for a split moment, hearing the words.

Seeing the shocked, horrified look spread across the younger man's face, Tanizaki's lips pulled back into a grotesque grin as he laughed. "Take it slowly, Ianto Jones. This way! This way!" he shouted, gleefully.

* * *

A shrill screech sounded from Tosh's computer. "Jack!" she shouted. "There's a massive build up in the basement."

Both Jack and Bob crowded next to her, their eyes tracing the large green spikes snaking across Tosh's monitor. "The Rift's fluctuating."

"Harry must have begun the Clarity by now," Bob calculated by the time. "The spell is fully activated."

"Tosh, how large is the energy surge?" Jack demanded, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. "Is anything coming through?"

Toshiko's fingers flew across the board, calling up the readings as above them, the lights of the Hub flashed and flickered dangerously. "Oh god," she whispered. "Nothing's coming through. It's a negative Rift spike. It's coming down on the room."

Beside her, Jack didn't move. His eyes remaining on the screen, his body frozen. Then suddenly, as if jolted into action, he turned to take off down to the basement. "Keep watching," he ordered. "If that spike gets any larger, you take Bob and get out of the Hub. Tell Gwen and Owen to stay clear."

"But Jack!"

"Just do it!" he shouted behind him as he sprinted for the stairs.

* * *

Harry gritted his teeth as the shockwaves of the Rift's energy surged through his staff and around the room. He kept his gaze focused on the sigils that glowed on his hockey stick, beaming so brightly it should have been burning his hands off. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sprawled form of Ianto Jones that had remained motionless for the past several minutes. But Harry knew the man wasn't dead or else the spell would have broken by now.

Another surge shuddered its way through Harry's entire body and he slid his right leg behind him to try and keep his balance. Something was going wrong. The Rift energy that he'd been able to channel before was rushing around him now, saturating the spell, but also getting out of control as it snapped through the air.

The door behind him suddenly banged open and for a terrifying moment, Harry nearly dropped his staff.  
"Dresden!"  
_  
God dammit! _

"What the hell?" Harry yelled to Harkness over the crackling bolts of the energy waves.

"Dresden, stop the spell!" Jack ordered loudly to be heard. "You're causing a negative Rift spike. The entire room's going to get sucked through!"

Harry almost turned around completely to look at the captain and for a moment the entire spell nearly collapsed again. "Hell…" Harry growled through clenched teeth as he frantically tilted and pushed with his staff to reorient the faltering magic. On his right, he saw Jack move toward Ianto's prone form.

"Harkness, don't!" Harry shouted.

"We have to get out!"

"Move back! You pull him out now and the entire thing's going to break down."

If the spell broke without proper preparation, Tanizaki's essence could flood over them, possibly trapping them in God knows what vision. Harry had to break it down in degrees if the spell had to end now. But…was he supposed to? The spell wasn't done. Tanizaki wasn't done. He hadn't moved on. If anything, based on the strain Harry felt on the Containment, Tanizaki's anger only seemed to be growing in size.

"Dresden, stop!"

"The spell isn't done," Harry ground out.

"The Rift is going to take him!"

Morbidly, Harry wondered if that was maybe better. If Ianto would prefer that over…

"Dresden, please! If he survives, he'll be lost." He heard the plea in Jack's voice, the desperation.

Harry tightened his grip on his staff, reaching out to try and stabilize the Rift energy for just a little longer…to give it a little more time.

"Harry!"

Just a little bit…longer…

"Please…"

"Fuck," Harry muttered. Sliding his staff across the floor, the wizard extended his leg and smudged out one of the four sigils by his feet. Immediately, the brightness of the sigils dimmed fractionally as the Clarity shuddered and ceased. Harry felt the strain on the Containment worsen as he could almost hear Tanizaki's ghost howl in confusion. The wizard rapidly smudged out the Lure as the light faded even more, though the crackling sounds of the Rift energy went on, getting possibly louder.

"Pull him out!" Harry instructed. Jack bolted past him and grabbed Ianto under his arms and dragged the man toward the doors. "Get him out. Run!"

"The Rift's-"

"Will you shut up and get out of here?!" Harry roared.

His own Shield and the Containment were left and he could feel Tanizaki clawing and howling against it, wanting to find something, someone to attack now that Ianto was gone from the spell. Harry heard metal groaning and felt the Rift practically lapping at him from all sides. He didn't have any time.

He had to get out. But he had to get Tanizaki out. If the room went, the ghost would go with it and be forever lost. But he couldn't just drop the Shield and Containment. If Tanizaki lashed out now, as he surely would, Harry doubted he'd be able to keep alert enough to make it out himself.

"God…I'm sorry, you have to go," Harry realized. He had to exorcize him now. Whether or not Tanizaki was ready.

He broke the Containment and poured what he had into his Shield, trying to keep Tanizaki at bay as he muttered the exorcism under his breath. He felt Tanizaki resist, scrambling to stay, to somehow remain gripped to reality just as Christine Graham's ghost had. Grief and anguish that it was happening again, broke into Harry's concentration.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "God, I'm sorry. But you have to go. You'll be trapped otherwise. Please, please you have to go."

The Rift was descending. Harry was out of time. He desperately threw out a hand, summoning whatever he could to try and cast Tanizaki out. "_Exhalta!_" he cried. The ghost strained, pushed, shuddered, and continued to grip.

The ceiling above Harry cracked as brilliant white light filled the room and shook the floor. Harry dropped his staff as a strong hand clamped around his collar and mercilessly yanked.

The wizard flew backwards as it seemed lightening struck the space just in front of him, blinding him. Instinctively, he threw an arm over his face as he landed heavily on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

And everything fell to silence.

The light winked out and soon the silence became filled with the sounds of watering dripping and shoes scraping the floor. Pulling back his arm, Harry blinked his eyes open and saw metal pipes running above him. Despite his back protesting, he pulled himself up to a half sitting position, resting on his elbows. Just in front of him was a carved out, cave-like structure where wires and broken pipes dripping water poked out from its walls.

The Rift had taken the entire room.

Struggling to his feet, Harry faintly heard Jack shouting Ianto's name from somewhere behind him. But he ignored it as he approached the scooped out section of the basement, bleeding water and sparking weakly from hanging cut wires. A sickening realization hit the wizard as he reached out a hand, unable to sense anything.

Tanizaki was gone.

Only Harry didn't know if he'd exorcised him in time or if the Rift had taken him.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry didn't realize someone had joined him until he felt a gentle hand tug at his sleeve. He turned his head without releasing his grip of the muddy wall to see Toshiko by his left. She was holding a steaming mug.

"I brought you a tea," she offered. Harry stared blankly for a minute at the mug in her hand. "You've been at it for two hours."

"Oh. Thanks." Taking his hand off, he absently wiped the dirt off on his shirt before he took the tea.

Toshiko's eyes traveled to where Harry had been pressing. "I'm sorry…did I interrupt-"

"No," he assured her with a sigh. "I was just…trying to see if I could get anything."

"Any luck?"

Harry shook his head and took a sip of the tea. It was a little bit too sweet, but it was hot and that was what he really wanted.

"I have the last readings the scanners picked up just before and after the spell got broken," Toshiko said, lingering by Harry. "Would that help you at all? If we could cross reference time wise where in the spell you were and when the Rift opened, maybe we could design a tracking system of some sort. We've have past instances of negative Rift spikes to work from as well."

There was a kind of sweet optimism to Toshiko's suggestion and Harry hated the idea of shooting it down so quickly.

"Thanks, Toshiko," Harry said with a small smile. "Maybe Bob can take a look at it and come up with a few ideas." But the fact was, Bob had already taken a sweep of the area as well and couldn't detect a single trace of the spell or the exorcism Harry had tried at the very end. And without some sort of residual, trying to track the room was impossible. Especially considering they had the entire span of the universe and time to work through.

Toshiko gave the wizard an asserting glance. "You don't think there's any hope, do you?" she concluded.

"No, not really," admitted Harry. He leaned against a section of the wall where the pipes weren't sticking out from and sighed. "He's gone. And I don't have a clue where or how I can even find him," he said wearily. "God, the entire thing's a complete mess."

He hadn't thought anything could really trump Christine Graham's case in terms of an ill-fated spirit, but this was much worse. There was no way for him to fix this. If he'd been successful in casting Tanizaki out, despite the ghost's protests, that would have been one thing. But he didn't know. He could have lost the spirit all together. Most likely for good. He imagined Tanizaki, howling within the abyss, being hurtled through time and space, trapped forever. Alone and in pain.

Harry took another gulp of tea, swallowing past the lump in this throat.

"Harry," Toshiko began, tentatively. "Jack's going to want to talk to you soon."

The joys just never ended. "Yeah, I figured as much," he relented, flatly. He looked over at Toshiko to see the small woman shifting uncomfortably, her dark eyes darting away from him. She appeared apprehensive, but he didn't think it was entirely on his behalf. "What is it?"

"I just…I wanted to ask if you could go easy on him," she said, hesitatingly.

"What?" Harry asked, a little startled.

Visibly pushing aside her own awkwardness, Toshiko finally looked at him straight in the eye. "I know you two had agreed that the spell would go to the end. And I know he shouldn't have stopped you, but…" she trailed off for a moment. "It's hard for him to let things go. And people dying around him is one thing, but the Rift…the uncertainty of what could happen if the Rift takes someone is something different. I don't think he really considered that possibility."

"Yeah, none of us really did," Harry sighed. "No, I didn't mean it that way," he said, seeing the frown on Tosh's face. "The spell didn't go the way we thought it would."

That was half the truth. The spell had gone awry in terms of side effects, but the core of it as a way of communicating with Tanizaki had worked. If it had lasted a little longer, they might have all gotten pulled into the Rift. Or maybe not. Maybe they would have accomplished what he and Ianto had agreed to do.

But in the end, Harry had stopped. Because Jack had asked him, begged him. And in that split second, the wizard had heard something in Jack's voice that reminded him too much of his own memories to refuse him.

"It's not my call to judge him," said Harry, finishing the rest of his tea. And it was true. He wasn't the one who'd have to deal with larger consequences of the choice Jack had made.

* * *

Despite being the walking dead and having a hole in his chest to prove it, Owen found there was something decidedly disconcerting about watching Bob stick his hand inside Ianto's chest. Yes, Bob was a ghost. But he looked so solid that seeing direct evidence to the contrary was bizarre.

Owen studied Bob's concentrated face as the ghost pushed in a little further, his wrist now disappearing. "Does that…hurt at all?" Owen asked. He'd already fallen through Bob before and hadn't felt anything. But he didn't feel much of anything these days.

"Of course not," Bob replied, keeping his eyes on his task. "He might feel a slight chill if he was awake, however."

Owen looked over at Ianto who remained unconscious, laid out on the autopsy bay, his eyelids not even twitching. Bob raised his left hand and sank it through the top of Ianto's head, keeping his other hand still buried in the younger man's chest.

"You can really do an examination like that?' Owen questioned incredulously.

"I've done it on several occasions with Harry, yes," Bob answered. "Now if you could just hold off your questions for a few moments."

"Owen, let him work," Jack ordered from above them by the staircase. Owen noted the hard, set lines on Jack's face and decided not to argue at this point.

After a few minutes, Bob retracted his hands, folding them behind his back. "Physically he's fine," the ghost reported. "As Dr. Harper concluded himself," he added. "There are no traces of anything inside of him that shouldn't be there."

"When will he wake up?" Jack asked.

"That remains to be seen," Bob replied. "But he will. There's no reason why he would not. I would suggest you move him to a more comfortable sleeping area if possible."

"We could use the couch in your office," Owen suggested.

"Right," said Jack, quietly, looking far off for a moment. His eyes flickered from Bob to Ianto and back again. "What about Tanizaki?"

Bob grimaced. "You'll have to speak with Harry about that."

It looked as if Jack wanted to ask Bob something else, but he gave a nod instead, taking a step back from the landing. "Get Gwen to help you move Ianto to my office," he instructed Owen. "Come get me when he wakes up. I'll be in the conference room with Dresden."

"Yeah, sure," Owen agreed, uncharacteristically pliant. He watched Jack give Ianto a last glance before leaving. He could swear he could see something akin to nervousness in the older man's eyes. Turning back the autopsy table, he saw the troubled expression on Bob's face. "Is all that stuff Gwen told us about Tanizaki and the afterlife true?" he asked. "He'll be waiting on the Other Side?"

"If Harry was able to exorcise him in time, then the chances are extremely high, yes," Bob answered. "We aren't certain."

Owen cast a glance down at Ianto's sleeping form. "Poor bastard," he muttered. "Harkness is two for two in employee screw over now."

Bob frowned. "Pardon?"

Owen gave him a shrewd look. "You can tell when something's wrong with a person by sticking your hands in them, right? So you have to know about me. I accidentally walked through you the first time I met you."

The ghost paused for a moment before he replied. "Yes, Dr. Harper. I am aware of your current…condition."

Owen smiled humorlessly at the diplomatic word choice. "Harkness brought me back. I know he didn't plan on it, but I got stuck this way."

"It wasn't magic that brought you back. That much I could tell," said Bob.

"It was a glove," explained Owen, suddenly feeling an odd surge of hope that somehow this wizard might have some sort of answer for him. "Gauntlet kind of thing. Came in a set. Don't suppose you've ever heard of something like that?"

Bob remained expressionless as his pale eyes held Owen's gaze for a beat. "No," the ghost replied, neutrally. "I'm afraid I have not."

"No," Owen waved off. " 'Course not. Way too convenient if you had."

* * *

Jack listened silently as Harry went over everything with him. But no matter how delicately the wizard tried to talk around it, the truth was they didn't have any answers. And possibly never would. Tanizaki was gone without a trace along with the room. And there was no way to tell if he'd been exorcised or not. Even if a pile of bricks landed somewhere in Wales later on during another Rift fluctuation, it wasn't a guarantee that it would even help. Neither Harry nor Bob or anyone at Torchwood knew what the Rift energy would do to a ghost traveling through it. There were too many variables and no concrete answers.

A very large part of Jack, the one that often worked overtime to make sure he didn't fail in his duties as head of Torchwood Cardiff, screamed at him for being so stupid. To go against what he and Ianto had agreed on by stopping the spell. The situation was now so much worse. The uncertainty of what was to come would no doubt plague Ianto for the rest of his life. And beyond that, if everyone was right about the Other Side, he'd just condemned the man to an eternity in hell.

But a smaller part of Jack. The one that used to work overtime when he used to be so much more selfish, asked him if he could really regret his decision. The Rift would have taken Ianto. Death was one thing. Jack knew one way or another, he'd have to surrender anyone close to him to death one day. But to just lose someone…to let them disappear and be lost for good…

Jack had fought against the impulse the moment Tosh had told him about the negative Rift spike. He had desperately tried to listen to the nobler part of himself. But the part that never let him completely forget about another loved one lost, the small hand gone from his grasp so many years ago, had won out.

He hadn't been able to do it. He hadn't been able to let go. Not this time.

"There's nothing left that we can do," he heard Harry say.

When Jack looked up, to his mild surprise, the wizard wore a strangely sympathetic expression, as if he'd somehow been privy to his thoughts. "I shouldn't have stopped you," Jack confessed. "Thank you for trying."

"Thanks for saving my life," Harry returned.

Staring miserably at the empty coffee mug on his desk from yesterday, Jack sighed. "It's my fault," he said. The silence that followed was deafening.

"I'm sorry," Harry finally said after awhile.

* * *

Before opening his eyes, Ianto was aware of being unbearably hot and cold at the same time. Somehow, his skin felt heated and uncomfortably sweltering. But a chill was radiating out from somewhere within the core of his body. Finally, he cracked an eye open and realized he was stretched out on the couch in Jack's office, buried under what felt like a small hill of blankets.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Jones?" asked a familiar voice. Above him, Bob's pale face hovered into view.

Ianto tried to sit up to push the smothering layers off of him. He groaned when all the muscles in his arms and torso commanded him to stop. "Careful," Bob warned. "You might want to remain lying down for awhile."

"It's too warm," Ianto croaked. He pushed again with one arm and the blankets covering him tumbled to the floor.

"There's a glass of water on the table," indicated Bob.

On top of the coffee table was actually an assortment of glasses to choose from. Each one holding either water, juice, scotch, tea or coffee. Judging from the steam still rising from the tea and coffee, they hadn't been sitting there for too long. "The captain's been here for the past few hours," said Bob, seeing Ianto staring at the glasses. "There was some sort of emergency call he had to take, however. He's just been gone a few minutes."

Reaching out, Ianto gripped a glass that held water and managed to steady his hand long enough to drink half of it. "How long have I..?"

"Half the day," said Bob. "That's not unusual after something like this," he added, reassuringly. Using the couch's back as leverage, Ianto pulled himself up to a half-sitting position and saw the strained smile on the ghost's face. Something was horribly wrong.

"What happened? The doctor, he was…" Tanizaki's screams and the phantom echo of the emotions that had been poured onto him moved through Ianto's mind. He shivered suddenly and reached down to retrieve one of the blankets.

"There was a negative Rift spike during the spell," Bob explained carefully. "We were forced to stop."

Ianto remembered the sounds of the conversion tools trying to upgrade him. He remembered desperately telling himself that none of it was real, but felt his resolve weaken the longer he felt Tanizaki's rage against him, dragging up his own self-hatred for what happened. He remembered at some point wanting to die. To let the revenge be complete so that it could all be over. And then…nothing.

"We have to do it again," Ianto said, his voice scratching. "Dr. Tanizaki's…he's not done. We-"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Bob cut in softly.

"But Dr. Tanizaki…god, he was so angry," Ianto murmured. "He wasn't done with…" he trailed off when he caught the look on Bob's face. "What's happened?" he asked fearfully.

"As I said, we had to stop," replied the ghost quietly. "The Rift somehow extracted the entire room in the basement and pulled it through."

"Dr. Tanizaki went with it?" Ianto asked, horrified.

"We're not certain," said Bob. "Harry tried to exorcise him before the Rift opened, but we can't be sure if he was successful. I'm afraid either way, the doctor is missing."

Ianto stared at the ghost, taking in the information, dread growing with each passing minute. "Why did Harry stop the spell?" demanded Ianto, hoarsely. "If he had time to try and exorcism, he should have kept going."

The awkwardness radiating from every line of Bob's form intensified. "Perhaps I should go get Captain Harkness to speak with you."

That was all the reply Ianto needed.

"It was Jack. He made him stop."

"Mr. Jones, from what Harry tells me there were different factors involved," Bob tried.

Ianto leaned back on the couch, looking down now at his hands, now bunched into fists, clutching at the blanket he'd picked up. "He'd promised."

"The captain did not expect the Rift spike," Bob began gently. "He didn't realize there would be the danger of you getting lost through it."

"He knew what to expect if the spell didn't finish!" Ianto said sharply. He pressed the heels of his hands to his aching eyes. _Oh god…_

He could hear Bob trying to say something else, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and the smell of Chinese food wafting in.

"Bob?" Gwen's voice called softly. "Is Jack still on with the PM? I brought-" Ianto pulled his hands away just as Gwen spotted him, sitting up. "Ianto!" Hastily, she shoved the takeout bag she'd been holding onto Jack's desk, sending papers tumbling to the ground. She rushed over to the couch and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, you have no idea how good it is to see you up." She squeezed him hard enough that he couldn't move his arms to return the embrace even if he wanted to. "Jack's been worrying over you for hours. We had to force him to take this call. PM's office seeing Rasthrophobites in- it doesn't matter. I'll go get him." Gwen babbled on a little, though Ianto barely heard her. He vaguely registered her releasing him to go get Jack and also shout for Owen.

* * *

Being awake treated Ianto to the privilege of having Owen run a barrage of tests on him while everyone else got a ringside seat. He sat through the blood drawings and the physical examination without complaint, but finally drew the line when the doctor moved into asking him current events questions.

"I don't have a concussion, Owen," he snapped.

"Cheerful," Owen commented, but the usual tone of superiority was absent from the doctor's voice.

"If we're done, I'd like to go home," Ianto requested.

"Think that's a good idea?" Jack asked next to him.

Ianto stiffly nodded. "Yes, I think it's an excellent idea, sir."

Deftly ignoring whatever tension in the air, Owen briskly stripped off his surgical gloves. "You're fine," he concluded. "Though I bet you're knackered. Sleep'll probably do you best."

"If he's that tired, he can sleep here," Jack argued with Owen.

"Don't I even get a say in where I sleep now?" asked Ianto, tonelessly.

Jack started at the question and Owen saw the anxious expression from before pass by his face. "I'm sorry…" Jack began before trailing off, looking uncertain.

"It'd probably be best if you sleep in your bed," said Owen. "Familiar surroundings and the like."

"One of us can drive you home," Gwen offered, purposefully leaving the statement open ended. Predictably, Jack volunteered.

Ianto sighed, but kept quiet. Owen was right when he guessed Ianto must be tired. He felt ready to drop and was carefully rationing out how to spend his remaining energy so he could get home before falling down. He didn't have enough to argue with Jack about car service.

"Could we just go, please?" he asked instead.

* * *

Ianto had been hoping Jack would just drop him off in front, but instead he was followed all the way into his flat. Toeing off his shoes, he breathed in the familiar air inside his place that was now wonderfully soothing. If only Jack would just leave. But he could feel the other man's gaze silently following him as he wandered into his living room, practically begging for them to talk.

Normally, Ianto would. It was a novelty really that Jack Harkness, the man who had more secrets than all Torchwood branches combined would want to talk. But at the moment, Ianto wanted to sleep. He wanted to spend the next several hours not remembering the last several hours. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to talk to Jack. And he didn't have enough energy at the moment to go against his own wishes as he normally did when it came to most things related to Jack and Torchwood.

"You don't have to come in tomorrow," Jack said from behind him. "Actually, it might be good for you to take some time off. At least two weeks."

Ianto nodded. Fine, whatever. As long as it made this conversation go faster, he'd agree to take a month off. But when he turned around, he saw on Jack's face that agreeing to a break when he normally would have argued against it had been the wrong thing to do.

"When's Harry's flight tomorrow?" Ianto asked, ignoring the concerned look he was getting.

"Late afternoon. 5:30," Jack answered carefully.

"I'd like to say goodbye before they go."

"We can swing by your place on our way to the airport."

"I can just go see them at their hotel tomorrow before they check out," Ianto stated.

"I can drive you."

"I'd rather you didn't, sir. You're not my bloody chauffer."

"Ianto…I'm sorry."

In two strides, Jack was suddenly right in front of him, his large hands resting on his arms. The touch was light, but even that weight made Ianto want to sit down. He instead closed his eyes and backed up until he was against a wall to keep upright. A hand slid behind his shoulders, pulling him forward, holding him up. When he blinked his eyes open, all he could see was Jack.

"You were supposed to do the right thing," Ianto muttered, resentfully. "You promised…"

"I know, I know," Jack said.

"You'd agreed even if I was going to die-"

"The Rift would have taken you."

"You should have let it," Ianto gritted out, wanting to wrestle out of Jack's grasp, but unable. "It's both the same thing."

Immediately, Jack shook his head. "No, it's not," he retorted. "You could have been alive. And you would've been lost. It's not the same thing at all."

"You were supposed to let me go!" Ianto wanted to shout, but it came out more strangled. "The Rift, death, whichever. It was supposed to end and now I…"

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered. He ducked his head a little, trying to catch the younger man's eye. "Ianto, please. I was trying to protect you."

Ianto looked up sharply, anger flashing in his eyes. "And are you going to protect me when I die?" he asked. "What will you do when I go to the one place you can't come with me and Tanizaki's there?" Jack didn't reply, his mouth dry. "You don't get it," Ianto sighed, the anger draining as quickly as it flared. "You were supposed to let go."

"I couldn't," Jack choked out. "I couldn't. Not after the last time."

Ianto didn't know what last time meant. It was a typically enigmatic, mysterious Jack Harkness sentence. And for once, Ianto found he couldn't care enough to be curious about it.

"I need to go to sleep," he stated. Mustering up his body's energy with promises for a bed in the next minute, Ianto shrugged out of Jack's hold and walked with impressive steadiness to his bedroom.

* * *

Despite it being walking distance, Toshiko drove Harry back to his hotel.

Sitting inside the wizard's bag, along with Bob's skull, was a ticket back to Chicago along with all the security papers that like before, would ensure a smooth re-entry through customs.

They drove along in silence until Harry's eye fell on a store a block away from the hotel. "Can we stop here for a minute?"

Tosh parked the car and looked to where Harry had pointed. "You want to go shopping?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I promised a friend of mine I'd get her something. She's cat sitting for me."

For some reason, the utter normality of what Harry just uttered sent Tosh into peals of laughter. It felt oddly cleansing, even as she felt herself getting a little hysterical. She just needed something to take her mind off of the last few days. When she was done, she saw Harry giving her a lopsided, if a bit confused smile.

"Didn't think I was that funny," he remarked.

"Hazards of the job," apologized Tosh, wiping her eyes. "Normal becomes funny."

"Ah," he nodded, knowingly. "That I get. I lose it all the time when I do the dishes."

Toshiko chuckled. "So, this friend. Is she a girlfriend?"

"Nah, just a friend," replied Harry. "Like you and Owen."

Tosh darted her eyes to him sharply and saw the wizard giving her an inscrutable smile. She looked away, her face flushing. "Well, if she's cat sitting for you, maybe she's looking for more," Tosh stammered out, trying to be nonchalant and grappling for some other conversation to hide her own flustered expression.

"Maybe," she heard Harry respond. "If she does, I'm probably just missing all the signals. Men are dumb like that."

* * *

Jack didn't leave.

Despite Ianto just short of actually kicking him out, Jack remained in the living room, staring blankly at the furniture around him. He rarely ever went to Ianto's flat. Almost always the other man would join him at the Hub just for general convenience's sake. And other than yesterday, Jack noted the last time he'd been here, was a year ago after he'd put Ianto on suspension after Lisa.

Looking around, he saw how much of the flat hadn't changed since then. There were still half emptied boxes of things sitting in the corner of the living area where Ianto had yet to unpack them from when he'd first moved in. Books and photos peeked out from one of them, and Jack had a sudden urge to unpack them all.

Instead, he aimlessly inventoried them in his mind before he wandered into the bedroom where Ianto had disappeared.

The Welshman had gotten as far as removing his jacket, waistcoat and tie before falling asleep on his bed. Judging by the position of his hands, he'd been reaching to undo his cufflinks when he'd ditched the idea and just drifted off.

Moving silently to the edge of the bed, Jack carefully maneuvered the silver posts through the button holes and slid the cufflinks out, placing them on the nightstand. Looking down at Ianto sleeping, he felt an unbearable urge to hold onto him as tightly as he could. Just as he'd done the night after Gwen had found out about Flat Holms. Back then he'd wanted to do so to reassure Ianto that he'd forgiven the younger man for telling Gwen. To let him know that all was well and nothing between them had changed.

Now he wanted to in order to reassure himself that Ianto would forgive him. That all would be well. But somehow, he knew that no matter how closely he held Ianto, a part of their relationship, a part of Ianto, had broken off and was now drifting away, far beyond his reach.


	13. Chapter 13

And it's over! Thank you so much to all the readers who have been following this story and my special thanks to everyone who left reviews!

* * *

It was late afternoon, but the violent cold spell had inspired most of the locals to stay indoors, leaving the area around the Bay more or less deserted. Despite not feeling the temperature, Bob added a heavy looking coat to his usual attire for appearances' sake as he carefully walked beside Ianto. The younger man was taking measured steps, making sure not to stride too quickly and accidentally drag Bob, whose skull was currently nestled in the knapsack dangling from his hand. Trailing behind them, a good large distance away was Harry, who seemed more intent on protecting his bag of chips from particularly ambitious seagulls.

The day was cold, cloudy, grey, drizzly and all together miserable. But staring at the lights of the Bay and the lapping water, Bob couldn't recall anything more lovely that he'd seen in recent memory. He wanted to soak it in so that it would last him as long as possible.

"I so rarely see the world," sighed the ghost as they stopped to stand near the rain-dotted railing lining the pier. "Beautiful."

Ianto didn't respond, but Bob noted the slight smile that slid across the man's face as he gazed out toward the waters. He'd shown up at the hotel to say goodbye to them and had suggested a walk along the pier. Despite having invited both Bob and Harry, Harry had been intuitive enough to let Bob and Ianto talk in private. At times, the ghost was impressed by Harry's diplomacy.

Giving him a side look, Bob saw that Ianto was wearing plain jeans and a thick jumper underneath a thicker jacket. The unexpectedly casual clothing made him look his true age if one glanced quickly enough.

"How're you feeling?" Bob asked.

Ianto shrugged. "Tired."

"Very normal," said the ghost. He paused before inquiring. "Did you have any nightmares last night?"

Ianto frowned slightly, as if trying to recall. "I don't think so. I don't remember having any." When Bob didn't reply to that, he looked over. "Is that normal?"

"It can be," he answered. "Dr. Harper was correct in saying familiar surroundings help."

"I think at this point the Hub is more familiar to me than my flat," said Ianto a bit bitterly.

"Familiar presences also help. Did Captain Harkness stay with you?"

"I didn't ask him to."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question," Bob pointed out gently. Ianto heaved a sigh. He slung Harry's knapsack over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth. Bob didn't push any further and only waited as Ianto stared unblinkingly at the waves bobbing before them.

"It takes a lot," the younger man began. "To be around Jack. Sometimes it's wonderful. Usually it is. But it…he…can ask a lot of a person sometimes. And it takes all your energies to be the sort of person he wants you to be. And my mind, at the moment is preoccupied with other things…" he trailed off.

Bob wasn't entirely sure why Ianto would feel the need to expend energies into becoming a person other than himself to be around Harkness. But he didn't press the issue at the moment.

"When I was with Tanizaki, he told me he had a cure for Lisa," said Ianto quietly. "I don't know if he was lying, but if he wasn't." He cut himself off abruptly, bowing his head as he leaned against the rails with heavy sigh. "I should be grieving over what's happened to him. I should be horrified that I'm catching myself wishing he was lost to the Rift so I don't have to see him in the afterlife." He snorted a self-disparaging laugh. "I should be bloody worried about what will happen if he IS waiting for me. But I keep thinking about that cure. What he told me." Lifting his head, he turned to Bob. "You know what that makes me? The same person I was a year ago. Selfish and utterly useless."

Bob studied the lines of misery running through the younger man's tense body. Leaning back, the ghost glanced over at where Harry was still standing far away, seemingly not paying any attention to them. "When I was your age, Mr. Jones, I performed spells that destroyed whole villages," he said softly. "I left men and women howling in agony, begging for mercy. And later, when I became a much older man, I did far worse. All for the love of a woman I later destroyed."

Ianto stared at him, stunned. "You see, there is a very good reason why I am cursed," Bob said with a humorless smile. "When I was alive, I did all these things and I never looked back. You, however," he continued. "You are looking back. You know of the proper emotions you should be feeling. And you do, despite your statements to the contrary. You grieve and you regret. And your remorse does not count for nothing. It matters a great deal."

"Does it?" asked Ianto, hoarsely, his eyes incredulous.

"Yes," Bob replied firmly. "It must," he added, his voice softening as his own pale eyes betrayed the faintest hint of shared misery. "Or this life will be quite unbearable."

Ianto dropped his gaze, staring blindly at the damp wooden planks under his feet. "I couldn't separate myself from Tanizaki's anger toward me. Because in the end, I felt the same. For all I did to him, I deserve far worse."

Unwittingly, Ianto had repeated something Bob remembered saying to himself a few hundred years after his own imprisonment. And while the ghost knew it was a pointless wish, he felt the strongest desire to be able to reach out and press a hand to the younger man's shoulder as comfort from someone who knew.

So instead, he waited until Ianto looked back to him before giving the man a kind smile. "You are still very young, Mr. Jones," said Bob. "And you have the great potential of years ahead to become a better man. Make this life count."

Taking in the advice, Ianto opened his mouth to respond when Harry called to them from his spot. Turning around, they saw a familiar figure in a greatcoat now standing with the wizard.

"It seems our Torchwood escort is here," Bob commented.

Ianto stared at Jack for a moment before turning back to Bob. "Could I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"It's more of a request, actually. One that you can very well refuse, of course," he added, hastily.

Bob smirked. "I'll be the judge of that."

"May I write to you?" asked Ianto. He shifted awkwardly, looking now very much his age. "If you don't mind."

The smirk on Bob's face slowly, but steadily transformed into a grin as he gave a nod. "Of course I would not mind."

"You needn't reply, only-"

"Write to me, Mr. Jones," said Bob, encouragingly. "I look forward to it. And I will work out a way to reply to you."

* * *

"How was the trip?" asked Murphy as she lugged a rather heavy looking pet carrier through Harry's apartment door. "Make any friends across the pond?"

"Doubtful," Harry sighed. "I was probably this close to getting banned from ever re-entering Wales."

Murphy smirked as she set the carrier down and opened the door. "Haven't lost the touch, have you?"

From the confines of the carrier, a put out Mister loped out, spotting Harry and fixing him with a glare.

"Hey, Mister," Harry greeted. He dropped to his knees in front of the cat and reached out. "Miss me?"

The orange feline seemed to study his owner and take in the well-concealed, but still present despondency lurking underneath. Sensing now was not the time for haughty behavior, he padded over and curled into Harry's waiting arms.

Harry hugged Mister's soft body as the cat purred comfortingly. "Yeah, I missed you too," he whispered.

Murphy watched the display with a growing frown. "Harry, what happened? Really."

Still holding the cat, Harry got to his feet and gave her a wavering smile. "Kinda messed up on the job," he confessed, though he knew his bank account wouldn't be reflecting that. Harkness had told him he'd wired Harry's payment in already. "I was hoping to help somebody, but it didn't work out."

"Can't help everyone," Murphy said, though far from dismissive, she sounded sympathetic. "Not even you with all the effort you put in."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, half-heartedly. "Don't I know it?" He scratched Mister behind his right ear before carefully setting him back down. "Thanks for looking after him for me. You guys get along?"

"Sure," said Murphy. "After we came to the agreement that my couch wasn't his personal scratching post, we got along great. Anna's going to be begging me to get us a cat now." Even as she joked, she carefully watched Harry as the wizard rapidly drew down his usual, nonchalant face again. Murphy stopped herself from sighing out loud and told herself that he was Harry and emotional masks were more or less mandatory.

"How about I buy you lunch as thanks?" Harry offered.

"You're buying me lunch?" Murphy asked, wearing her shock loud and proud.

"Of course," said Harry, making a sweeping gesture. "What sort of person would I be if I didn't buy a pretty lady lunch?"

"The person who barely makes his rent?" Murphy guessed.

"Murph, the pleasure of lunch with you is worth the risk of losing my home."

Murphy rolled her eyes. "Alright, enough with the exaggerations. Let's go."

Harry grinned. "Great. Oh," he started, patting one of his pockets. "I almost forgot. I got this for you."

From his jacket, he pulled out a small box and handed it to her. Murphy opened the top and pulled out a pewter sculpture nestled inside. It had a circular base, on the side of which was carved the words, 'WELSH SHEEP.' On the base were small pewter bumps to represent bushes and a few small pewter sheep, grazing.

Bringing the sculpture closer to her face, Murphy narrowed her eyes. "Do these sheep have…are those fangs?"

Harry nodded. "Yup. Apparently they have flesh eating sheep over there."

"Of course they do."

"Like it?"

"You know, I was just telling myself that I needed something to fill that empty spot on my mantle."

"Well, if you don't like it…" Harry reached to grab it back and got a somewhat painful slap on his fingers.

"Hey! Get your own cannibal sheep sculpture," Murphy said, clutching the pewter figurine.

* * *

_**One Month Later**_

It was close to midnight when Jack was finally able to get off the phone with Detective Swanson. He'd been on with her for the last three hours, discussing the deteriorating relations between the local police and Torchwood. Rather, Swanson ranted at him for 'sticking his bloody nose in her police proceedings' and 'Torchwood was to mind that they don't get probed by little green men, not stomp all over their crime scene.' Jack had tried charm for the first hour, reasoning the second and then decided to play "Who's Going to Give In and Hang Up First?" Chicken with her for the last. He wasn't exactly certain who'd won.

Rising to his feet, Jack stretched his arms above his head and heard his back crack in at least four separate places. He walked over to the windows looking down at the Hub and saw the lights were dimmed and the computer monitors were in sleep mode. Everyone else had gone home by now. The Rift had been relatively quiet the last few days, which was a nice present after the last month of nonstop running around. Jack wasn't entirely sure, but he wondered if Harry's spell had something to do with the Rift's recent over activity. Still, it seemed to be calming down now and Jack knew dwelling on it wasn't going to change anything.

Ianto had taken his two weeks ordered vacation. During the time, Jack checked in with him mainly via phone calls that usually ended up being more work-related as it seemed literally no one else filed at the Hub and subsequently, no one knew where to find anything. The Welshman had been patient about it, smoothly giving directions around the Archives and politely answering any more personal questions with vague assurances. When he finally returned, things had gotten so busy that there wasn't much time for anyone to be awkwardly sympathetic around him, which Jack knew Ianto thoroughly appreciated. Ianto's work both in the office and out on the field remained as it always had: efficient and resourceful.

Since returning, to everyone else, Ianto had just picked up where he'd left off, trading mandatory insults with Owen or listening laughingly to Gwen moan about Rhys' utterly horrid taste in films. So it was only Jack who knew things were different. Since the whole incident with Harry, Ianto hadn't spent the night, nor had he and Jack sat around alone, just talking.

And Jack wasn't entirely sure which of those two things he missed more.

It wasn't exactly that Ianto was cold toward him. He was just polite. And civil. Painfully, professionally, maddeningly civil. It made Jack want to grab him and strong arm the Welshman into just talking to him so they could settle this. But he doubted that would go over well. For once, Jack knew he had to wait it out and not push. Still, he just wished Ianto would give him some sort of sign or indication that this wouldn't last forever. That one day his resentment would melt.

With a sigh, Jack scrubbed a hand over his face to clear his head. If he was going to brood, he was either going to do it with alcohol or some fresh air. Choosing the latter, he grabbed his coat and made his way through the cog door. He got up to the Tourist's office to leave when he stopped short.

Ianto hadn't gone home yet, apparently. Instead, he was slumped over the front desk, his head pillowed on his folded arms, fast asleep. Around him on the desk were stacks of bills, expense reports and requisition forms that had piled up during his absence and the Rift's overtime. Quietly walking closer, Jack saw the pen still lightly gripped in Ianto's hand. Next to it was one of Owen's expense reports he'd been double checking. One of the lines, listing a 300 pound dinner expense, was circled.

'Why do you have this? You don't even eat' Ianto had written underneath the line.

Practically hearing the affronted tone, Jack grinned and gently pulled the pen away from his fingers.

Ianto's jacket was hanging on the back of his chair. In one of the pockets, peeked out the tie he'd taken off and shoved away. In the other was a sealed envelope with an address that Jack recognized. The grin faded.

He knew that Ianto was exchanging letters with Bob. The younger man hadn't kept it a secret, asking Jack for permission and assuring him he wouldn't be writing anything that would be considered sensitive Torchwood information. At first Jack wasn't entire sure how the ghost would be able to reply, but one day he'd spotted Ianto opening up an envelope from Chicago at his desk. Inside had been a series of numbered photographs to be pieced together accordingly, each one having captured a segment of Bob's letter that he'd written in the air.

It was awkward and a little haphazard, but Jack had seen the smile on Ianto's face as he'd shuffled the photos and knew it hardly mattered to the younger man.

Seeing one of Ianto's letters to Bob now, Jack felt a stab of jealousy. There was a time when he'd had that role. When he'd been the one Ianto confided in, asked advice from, just talked to. And now that it was gone, he missed it a lot more than he was comfortable admitting.

_Just start out small and work your way up,_ Jack told himself. _Start with getting him to not hate you and go from there. _

But first, he should probably wake Ianto up before the man got a horrid crick in his neck.

He crouched down next to the left of the chair and slid an arm across Ianto's shoulders, lightly gripping his right. "Ianto? Wake up," he said softly.

The Welshman muttered something unintelligible, but unexpectedly slid closer toward Jack. Reflexively, Jack curled his arm as he did so. Jack blinked. "Ianto. Hey," he tried again, just as quietly as before. "Comfortable?"

"Mmmph," Ianto mumbled. He shifted toward him even more and fell silent again.

Jack stared down at Ianto's slumbering form for a moment before he tentatively leaned forward and rested his own head against Ianto's. Something inside his chest trembled when the younger man didn't pull away, but pressed closer against him. He'd take this. He'd take this as an indication, the faintest flicker of hope, a sign, that somewhere inside, Ianto didn't hate him. That he could still offer Ianto some sort of comfort and would one day be forgiven. Hopefully soon.

Jack tightened his embrace slightly and told himself he'd wake up Ianto for real in a moment. The man really did need to be sleeping on a bed. But he wanted to enjoy this for a little longer.

Just a bit longer.

THE END


End file.
